


Union

by IrisSteth, radstickers



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora has Synesthesia, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aspi Adora, Canon compliant but without space travel, Canon-Typical Violence, Catra (She-Ra) Redemption, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Platonic relationship Glimmadora, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 76,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisSteth/pseuds/IrisSteth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/radstickers/pseuds/radstickers
Summary: On the cusp of losing the war to the Horde, Adora receives a letter holding a lock of hair and the offer of a marriage to her best friend-turned enemy, Catra… from Horde Prime himself.How can Adora say no, even knowing it has to be a trap..?
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 252
Kudos: 703





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this is a longform roleplay between the two authors, so it changes perspective frequently.

The letter would find them at a difficult intersection.

The power struggle between the Horde and the Alliance had passed living memory for most, an age old conflict with heightened conflicts and colder moments of tension, of unrest. The Horde’s emperor, a powerful sorceror, had ruled with an iron fist for a time _longer_ than what should have ever been his season. 

Nearly five years had passed since an insignificant Force Captain had become a rather _significant_ thorn in Lord Prime’s side. How was it that for all this time, they had raised and trained _She-Ra_ only to lose her so... _easily?_

A prince to blame, a prince to _punish_ for such _disgraceful_ behavior, Hordak was disgraced for his failure as ruler of the Fright Zone and summarily replaced by the emperor himself.

The last four years had been more than challenging, but now, entering the fifth year...things are _changing._ And Lord Prime has an idea.

A letter. A letter written on simple letterhead. After all, it is not addressed to any _true_ nobility, just a woman of rank alone. _She-Ra._

He can hear the distant sounds of whimpering, the drag of shackle and chain as a prisoner long left to Shadow Weaver’s _care_ is brought before him. 

_To the Princess Adora of Brightmoon, She-Ra:_

_No doubt word of Elberon’s collapse will have reached your ears. And no doubt, you have seen the other losses of territory within the last few months. Surely you, a woman of compassion and mercy must know the devastating loss of war, how much suffering there is when territory must be forcibly seized._

_So...I present you with a proposal._

He pauses when the whimpers grow quiet, but the scrape and _clang_ of shackles grows near. He thrusts the quill back into its stand, slowly shifting to behold the pitiable creature now trembling behind him. 

He lifts her filthy chin with a hand. 

“Mmm. And you say she and Adora were...close?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Have her collared then. And bathed. _Thoroughly_. And cut that filthy mane, she will win no one’s heart looking like a mangy cat.”

Slitted, bi-colored eyes _narrow_ dangerously, but it only brings a grin to his lips. 

“You remember your Adora? The one you spent so long hunting down? In a few days we’ll see if she’ll want anything to do with you. Or if I’ll have to put you down for good.”

Prime takes a dagger from his belt, sliding it along that jaw in threat, like he might decide, then and there to slice her throat. But steady, cold hands slide towards her hair instead, to cut a lock, one of the overgrown lighter colored tufts, holding the matted thing in his hand. After all...there _had_ been a public execution, or so was publicized. Perhaps Adora would not believe simple _words._

He waves the wretched creature and Shadow Weaver away, binding the lock of hair to the top of the letter before moving to cleanse his hands. 

_I will present you your Catra’s hand in marriage in exchange for talks regarding peace. I will expect an invitation to a ball in less than two weeks time if you consent to my terms. Do not test my patience, I will not wait much longer before giving my armies the command to advance._

_The Great Emperor, Horde Prime_

He seals the letter with a smile, binds it to the leg of a messenger bird, and watches the creature fly towards the east.

~

The letter is simply adorned, but the _signet_ placed into the wax causes a stir, especially when it is not addressed to the queen of Brightmoon and the regent of the alliance, but to Adora. Glimmer’s hands tremble as Adora is often _never_ at court, when she receives it--instead caring to spend her time training on the grounds while she is kept working the political side. 

But, fortunately, Adora is a creature of _habit,_ and one blink finds her practicing her form against a weathered stump, splintered from repeated practice and powerful strikes.

“Adora!” 

She races closer. The woods are often _quiet_ but the thought of someone else _hearing_ is almost frightening--Glimmer wants to know what the letter says _now_ and is ill prepared to wait.

“You’ve been...sent a letter. From Lord Prime himself.”

\---

The air around her _sang_ with power. Each swing of the Sword of Power seemed to change its notes almost as if the whispering woods, so filled with magic she was only beginning to understand, was responding to her like a chorus would a conductor. Training out here was simultaneously exhilarating and comforting. She was, after all, a soldier first and foremost. Trained from birth for greatness, she had spent years dreaming of burning this very forest to the ground, of leading her squadron to victory in a war against brightmoon for the glory of the horde. 

How quickly things change. 

The magic in the air changed key to one she had grown increasingly familiar with over these last few years. It was hard to tell _exactly_ how long she had been at it, but Adora knew she hadn't been there long enough for the court proceedings to be complete for the day.

“Glimmer?” She asks, concerned as her friend closes the distance between them and explains exactly _why_ she is here.

It feels like a punch. Lord Prime. _The_ Lord Prime. A message? For her? 

With shaky hands she takes the letter offered to her from her friend and exams the seal for a moment, gathering the courage she needs before tearing it open and freezing. It... it couldn’t be.

“Catra…” she whispers, tears filling her eyes as callused fingers move to stroke the tufted hair pinned to the top of the letter. 

Her knees buckle, realization hitting her harder then any blow ever could and she barely makes it to the stump she had been fighting all day before they give out entirely.

“He... proposes a.. Marriage,” Adora explains handing Glimmer the letter back for her to read but keeping that tuft of hair for herself to hold onto like an anchor. 

\---

_“Marriage?”_

Glimmer’s blood runs _cold_ at the thought of Adora on the arm of that _monster,_ forced to be his _wife._

They were losing ground, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that anything to stop the impending _army_ was welcome, at least to be discussed, but _this…_

She feels ill when she takes the letter, but…

“...He...he’s offering you...Catra?”

Glimmer sees Adora half collapse to the stump, holding something to herself.

Catra... _Catra._

Brightmoon had nearly fallen once, under her command. Catra was vindictive, cruel as a Force Captain. Her aggression, her _ambition,_ had nearly brought the Alliance to its knees. 

And while Adora did not often _speak_ of it...she knew there was...something left unspoken. History. It fueled those interactions. That aggression. It was simply too _personal._

And while Glimmer had never _said_ anything about it...she knew about the small grave near here. It would be impossible _not_ to see Adora gathering wildflowers.

Because--almost six months ago...Catra had been _executed_ by the Horde.

“...she’s...alive?”

\---

The magic in the air here no longer felt _comfortable_ . It stung, like thorns grabbing at her sweat stained tunic and exposed arms. Catra was alive? She was _alive_. 

There was no way. Prime had killed her years ago... but this... the strands of mane in her hand. They _smelled_ like her. Even if he had saved them and kept them for all these years, not even magic could preserve a scent like _this._

“Take me home…” she manages, her throat feeling too tight. Breathing getting hard though she _knows_ there is nothing stopping her from simply inhaling. “Glimmer - I need to go home _now_ …”

\---

She can already hear a telltale _wheeze_ in that throat, an indication of panic - of an upcoming _attack._

Without a word she gently takes that hand, closing her eyes and feeling her magic blink them back to the castle. 

She takes Adora to her own, queenly room, setting her on the bed with a sad, gentle smile before vanishing and reappearing a second later with Bow.

Without a word, Glimmer hands Bow the letter, while she gathers Adora into her arms. 

Dark eyes skim over the words, before lifting to the queen and princess.

“...oh. Stars. This could change everything but…”

Only one look at Adora tells him she is _far_ from okay. Bow bites his lip, scooting closer to take up the hug on the side opposite Glimmer.

“...hey. Hey...it’s alright...whatever this is, we’re right here…”

\---

The world fades with a familiar sensation and for a brief moment Adora feels weightless - before appearing in Glimmer’s personal quarters and the reality hits her like a cannon to the chest. She knows where she is, and that Glimmer’s disappearance is only seconds long, but the silence of the room - the _stillness_ reminds her how alone part of her has felt these past six months. 

When news came of Lord Prime’s return to the Fright Zone, no one knew quite what to expect save for the fact that things would be different. Hordak being made an example of was not so surprising, he had failed and Adora knew first hand how failure is dealt with there... but when word came that _Catra_ was to be executed as well…

It had left her reeling. 

She did not blame the citizens for celebrating their deaths. Adora had been fighting against the Horde for years after she learned how _horrible_ they were. How much destruction and death they brought to innocent people. Catra’s actions had directly helped cause Queen Angella’s demise - to expect Glimmer to mourn her killer’s death would be too much to ask. Selfish to even _think._

So she mourned in silence. Dug a small grave only to realize she had nothing to bury, but the action felt right all the same. She marked the sight with a small stone and carved out Catra’s name in a language just as dead. Adora would have to remember both now. No one else would.

She visited the site regularly between battles, offered a few flowers but always alone. It was probably wrong but… it felt right.

Now, however, she was presented with evidence - evidence she still held clutched in one hand - that Catra was _alive._ There was something she could do to save her after all…

With Glimmer on one side and Bow _finally_ on the other - Adora felt like she was able to breath, just a little. They were her best friends. Her family. 

“I... I have to do this,” She hates how much her voice shakes, how she can’t see her own hands through her tears. She’s a soldier, she should be _stronger_ than this. “He - He gave... proof.”

Slowly that fist uncurls, revealing the matted bloodied tuft of mane, a lighter color fur that Adora knew instantly belonged to Catra. She wants to hold it close, protect even this smallest part of her frie - enemy. 

“It... smells like her,” Adora admits, leaning into Bow so she can better offer the evidence to Glimmer, “theres.. Magic… you can tell its owner is.. Alive? Right?”

\---

Glimmer looks at the small, matted _thing_ in Adora’s hand and briefly worries she has some sort of _body part_. 

But...it only seems to be fur. Somehow...it’s worse. 

“...I’ll need some of it,” she whispers, sitting up slightly. Without a word, she reaches over, to hold Bow’s arm and Adora’s - and blinks them over to the small magic garden.

It had been a long process for her, to learn magic from both her aunt and the old books her father read. Her mother’s magic was innate, but learned magic was...complicated.

She thumbs through a book near black roses.

“...we can...look,” she says softly. “...at the target. A-At...Catra. To see…I’ll just need a single strand, I think.”

\---

Adora could feel Bow’s arms wrap around her, making up for Glimmer’s absence on her other side and she turns into his sturdy embrace. What did she do to deserve friends like this? How had she gotten so lucky when Catra... 

“Here…” Adora whispers, struggling to get her shaking hands to _work_ , but finally succeeding in separating a few strands for Glimmer to use. “I... I need to know…”

\---

It is a simple enough spell. The components are straight forward. But as the magic begins to knit together within the basin, Glimmer knows...something is _wrong._

Her pink runes turn red and black. But it’s the _laugh_ that cements it. 

“Why Queen Glimmer, if you wished to spy upon me, you _could_ have asked.”

There, in the scry - not Catra, but piercing, glowing eyes, peering into her own. _Shadow Weaver._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **cw: emetophobia**

_Her voice_.

Adora stands abruptly, panic welling through her body as she rips away from Bow’s warmth. From his comfort. 

_**Show No Weakness Adora.** _

She steps forward, to stand besides Glimmer, her face pale but otherwise her body’s previous fear stomped down in a heartbeat thanks to instinct alone. Weakness only means others get hurt.

“Shadow Weaver, we got Lord Prime’s letter,” Adora begins, pausing long enough to discreetly take one of Glimmer’s hands in her own. Knowing she would need its strength for what she might be about to see, “You taught me never to trust and always to verify-- so what proof do you have that Catra is alive.”

\---

Behind the mask, Shadow Weaver _smiles._

She can see the cracks in that shell, the way that spine snaps straight. The slightly _too_ loud words that betray insecurity. 

And it’s simply too _easy._

“Dear, sweet Adora. I thought I taught you better manners than to _demand._ Still...Lord Prime knew you’d likely want to see _something._ ”

It is then, when her voice fades, that keen ears might catch the trembling breathing just beyond. 

The sorceress moves. And there, strewn across a black stone table, dripping wet...a small figure, already chained in place. 

It moves, twitching, _jolting,_ clawed fingers dug into the stonework but otherwise unresisting. 

“Lorde Prime has ordered her to be treated like a _princess_ for your upcoming ball. She’s just finished her bath. Have you made any arrangements, Adora? It would be an awful shame to get her ready for a party only to have to throw it _all_ away…”

And then, just like that, the scry dissipates.

\---

Adora stares, unblinkingly at the scry for several moments after Shadow Weaver’s voice and the image of Catra’s drenched and trembling back disappears.

And then she is running. Letting go of Glimmer’s hand and pushing past Bow as she dashes to the master bath and retches into the sink. 

Any pretence of being okay is gone as her body reacts violently to the realities of the day hitting her all at once until she sinks to her knees and begins to sob and shake uncontrollably.

\---

Glimmer races after Adora, as fast as she can run. Adora is _faster --_ but the bathroom is close, and she pulls the loose hair from Adora’s face in time.

Tears fill her eyes as her friend starts to sink, meeting her on the neatly tiled floor and--once again -- drawing her into her arms.

“Adora..” she whispers softly, pulling that head to her shoulder with her own sniffle. 

It hurts. It always has. Adora would carry the world on her shoulders, if she could. And she frequently _does._

“It’s alright. I’ll get the invitation written within an hour. It’ll be alright, Adora…”

\---

“I need to... I need to do this…” Adora pleads, her throat burning until she realizes Bow has joined her as well, a glass of cool water in his hand and a gentle urge for her to take small sips. 

She complies, swishing the water around and spitting it back out, resting as Glimmer continues to stroke her hair and rub gentle circles into her back. She is exhausted, and it takes her mind far longer then it should to fully process that Glimmer has already _agreed._

“Not here!” Adora shouts, twisting herself so she can look back at Glimmer, “He’ll be expecting that, he has to have a plan…” 

Adora sees the shimmer in Glimmer’s eyes and distantly wonders if the sight of Catra’d bare and abused back... her shivering form and whimpering breaths had affected her friend as much as it had affected her. She’ll have to wonder about that later-- for now Glimmer absolutely _can not_ have this party at Brightmoon.

\---

“Adora, there’s no where else to _have_ it. Not on such short notice. We’ll need to start getting things ready today if we’re going to be ready…”

She wipes the hair plastered to that temple away, gently pushing it back behind Adora’s ear.

“...You’ll have to let me handle that. We’ll be ready for whatever he’s plotting but...if we want to save her, we’ll have to do this fast…”

Bow likewise sits back down with Adora, wrapping an arm gently around her.

“We’ll be by your side the whole time. If there’s any sign he’s coming with an army...then we fight. But it just...wouldn’t be _that_ easy to storm Brightmoon that way. We’ll have the guard doubled. We’ll keep everyone safe. It’ll be alright, Adora...you can trust us.”

\---

Adora knows Glimmer is right, that the only way to save Catra is to act _fast_ and prepare for the worst. There was no guarantee Prime wouldn’t kill her on the way to the ball -- but if they refused... 

“I know…” Adora whispers, holding tight to Glimmer while leaning heavily against Bow once more. “Thank you…”

She allows herself a few moments, minutes at most, to sit there and be comforted. Weeping in the arms of her best friends as her body and mind tried to catch up with the events of the last hour. All too soon she began to close herself off again, forcing her breathing to steady and dabbing frantically at her eyes until she got the tears to stop. 

Perfuma had commented more than once how... unhealthy this was for her emotional wellbeing, but it had saved her life back in the horde and there was simply _no time_.

“In your letter back, put in a line that -- that no more harm will come to her. From the moment the letter reaches him she is my intended…”

\---

The letter is drawn up quickly. Glimmer knows Adora struggles with writing out full letters, particularly ones of sensitive politics. But this...this would be _impossible_ for her. 

So...the moment Adora is back somewhere comfortable...she starts writing.

_Emperor Horde Prime,_

_I have reviewed your terms and consent to them, though I add a few caveats in preparation for the ball celebrating our union:_

  * _Only you and she are invited into Brightmoon. You may bring guards, no more than one body guard per guest, but they are subject to ballroom law. (as listed next)_


  * The Ball you are formally invited to is subject to the laws we assert within the Alliance: There are no weapons, formal wear must be worn, and there must be no instigation of any kind or you will be asked to leave.


  * Catra will face no harm after you have received this letter. From the moment you read this, she is considered the intended of a Princess of the Alliance, and is entitled to all the rights and protections such a position brings with it.



_You are formally invited to join us in exactly two weeks to celebrate the union between Adora of Brightmoon and Catra, of the Horde. We look forward to you joining us for this historic union._

_Princess Adora of Brightmoon_

Glimmer reviews the letter once. Twice. _Thrice._ She doesn’t want to show it to Adora, to see those tears again...to see her _suffer._

So -- she signs it, binds it to the leg of the messenger bird, and watches it fly into the sunset.

~ 

The collar burns at her skin, and she trembles. Since her bath she’s felt _frigid,_ like all the warmth’s been squeezed from her. But slowly, more and more, she is regaining awareness, coming out of that animalistic state that’s kept her alive for almost six months in Shadow Weaver’s tender care.

Her mane is gone. It had nearly reached her lower back, before all of...this. She had maintained it with near obsessiveness towards the last year of freedom, it’s length a sign of pride and control, neither things she truly felt.

But...only an hour ago...it has been taken from her. 

Her neck bared, to accept a _subjugation_ collar from Lorde Prime -- and now bared forever. She feels naked, _cold,_ despite being given white robes to wear in her Emperor’s presence. 

They await a letter. It will decide her fate. 

It seems...oddly fitting, that the one to decide if she lives or dies is Adora. 

_Adora…_

Adora, who had _left_ her. Cared little for what happened to her. The Adora that found new friends and within hours had more loyalty for them than for her. The Adora who bore scars on her back from her own talon-like claws, the Adora who had gone from being her best friend to her _betrayer_ within a matter of days. 

“Ah, disappointing.”

Lord Prime’s voice lilts, eyes falling to hers with a smile across his face, a piece of paper in his hand. And for a moment, Catra’s heart stops in her chest. 

_..no?_

Adora had...rejected the letter?

He hands it to her, and she takes the paper. Sensitive nostrils flare, but fail to scent Adora.

“Seems she had someone else write her letters for her. Could not even spare you her own handwriting, little sister? At least she consents to the ball.”

It is...difficult to read the lettering, the loops and curves of a missive not Adora’s own challenging to her eyes. She makes out a concession, her own name. That she is now considered an intended of a Princess and entitled to those protections. 

_What a joke._

“Oh little sister. I am sorry. You may keep that letter though, if you wish, though I doubt Adora even saw it before it was sent to me.”

\---

By noon the next day the rest of the princess alliance had received word of the unexpected celebration, and all had sent word back that they would be in attendance. Perfuma arrived first, her kingdom closer than the others and requiring the least amount of guidance due to its very nature. Almost immediately after arriving Bow whisked her away from Adora and channeled her energy from providing healing therapy with crystals and meditation -- to arranging flowers for the ball and creating decorations.

Adora was grateful for the save, if a bit lonely as she herself had little to do with the arrangements. Glimmer insisted on handling everything and Adora could count on one hand the number of parties she’d been to, and with weddings totalling up to a grand _zero_ , she had to admit she was in over her head and yielded her control without much of a fight. 

Mermista came the following day along with seahawk and, just as with Perfuma, the pair were pulled away from Adora and given tasks to help prepare for the ball while Adora was left to… her own devices once again.

With nothing but time, Adora found herself alone with her thoughts, which was the absolute last thing she wanted. She couldn’t go off to the whispering woods to train -- not when Glimmer would sporadically pop in to ask her opinion on something simple like a color preference or if she wanted the brightmoon guard to wear her crest on their uniforms as a sign of solidarity. 

Adora knew Glimmer had already made these decisions for her, knowing that she wouldn’t _care_ one way or the other -- but it was an excuse to keep her in the castle and keep her close. She wasn’t about to make her friends jobs even _harder_ by wandering off, so she stayed.

She spent most of the first day in her chambers, crying off and on and spending hours stroking the filthy bit of mane Prime had sent along with his first letter. She had fallen asleep with it clutched to her chest, only to wake the next day unable to find it. 

The panic that had set in when she tore the bedding off her mattress in search for it was indescribable and when finally located the matted fur beneath the bed frame she swore she would find a better way to keep it safe and together. 

The entire kingdom of brightmoon seemed to be in a tizzy, planning a ball in such a short time, but the halls surrounding Adora’s chambers were suspiciously empty. Adora was sure Bow had asked the staff to avoid this wing in order to keep Adora as unbothered as possible and the gesture was sweet if unwanted. 

Still, it made her walk to Netossa and Spinnerella’s room easier. Standing outside their chamber doors, Adora wasn’t sure if they would be there -- but she raised her fist and knocked all the same.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: depictions of anxiety/panic attacks

It hurt to watch.

Because  _ of course _ it hurt. 

They were princesses of the old alliance, before She-Ra...before the war had escalated. At the time it appeared worse than ever. 

What innocence they had. 

Spinnerella had helped as much as she could with the upcoming ball -- and since she and Netossa were the only princesses who had ever  _ hosted _ a ball to this degree, their input was  _ sorely _ needed. 

But after conversations about etiquette and menu were out of the way, it began to sink in what a cruel, tangled  _ mess _ they all were in. 

That  _ Adora _ was in. 

In times of peace it was more common for there to be marriages of political convenience. War took many things from them, but the love that blossomed in the Alliance between the two was never questioned, and their marriage was never turned down by their kingdoms in favor of better options. No -- it was the Alliance, and marriages within that Alliance only strengthened it. They didn’t even need to make a case for it.

But even political marriages could turn so  _ sweet -- _ Angella and Micah were united under such an arrangement, but their love blossomed  _ quickly _ into something rich and warm. 

Their orphaned daughter bore the responsibility of both king and queen upon slender shoulders, a task she had done  _ remarkably _ well with but...both Spinnerella and Netossa worried for her. They worried about her...about Bow...and, achingly, about Adora. 

It  _ hurt _ to watch.

Everyone at Brightmoon knew this was a ploy of some kind, but even holding the ball for the  _ brief _ ceasefire was enough to make the whole thing worth it. It would only be a matter of time before towns closer and closer to Brightmoon fell. Before the woods were torched. Before they would be forced to make their final stand. 

_ Anything _ for a chance to regroup. Two weeks was a long time for the infirmaries, for the soldiers to heal. 

There’s a knock on the door. Netossa is off stringing up lights using her magic, something she was more than a little  _ smug _ about when Castaspella commented on how  _ beautiful _ those strands of magic looked in the dining hall.

_ Typical. _

Wind wasn’t terribly helpful when it came to decorating, and Spinnerella had already offered what advice she had regarding conduct and color palettes. 

So she’s been sitting, reading about arranged marriage, reading about what sort of treaties they might be able to  _ squeeze _ if such peace talks are to be discussed.

She opens the door, her heart twisting when she sees that exhausted face, the dulling blue eyes.

“Adora,” she greets, her voice warm and she  _ hopes _ comforting. “Please, come on in. I was just about to make some tea for myself, would you like a cup?”

\----

Adora looks up, surprised when Spinnerella opens the door for her and invites her inside. The older woman looks as tired as Adora feels and the idea of  _ company _ is what leads her to accept more than the offer of tea. 

“Yes, tea would be nice if it isn’t a hassle... I’m sorry for barging in on you like this,” Adora says, simply to make some sort of conversation to fill the silence as she takes in the unfamiliar room.

She’d known Spinnerella and Netossa for years now, but this is the first time she's ever really approached them alone for well... anything. At least in their own room, and it feels like an intrusion of privacy somehow, even though she was welcomed inside. 

“Is Netossa out working on…” Adora hesitates.  _ MY wedding _ sounds... wrong.  _ Celebration _ doesn’t fit either. “The event?”

\---

Spinnerella walks over to the small fire place, to put the kettle on.

“It’s no trouble, Adora. No trouble at all.”

In truth, she’s surprised -- surprised Adora came, surprised Adora was soliciting her company at all. Most times it seemed as though the trio stuck together...finding solace in themselves rather than the adults in their lives. Rather understandable, considering Adora’s upbringing.

She notices the dodge in language, the way Adora fails to mention the ball or any sort of  _ ownership _ of it. 

“Yes. She’s hanging some magical lanterns in the main hall...do you need her?”

Her voice is gentle, kind. If she or Netossa could be a shoulder for Adora--she would be  _ grateful _ either way.

\---

Adora hesitates, noting the soft couch across from a table near the fire. She’s been offered tea, and standing would be  _ rude _ but it feels strange to sit without being prompted so she remains standing awkwardly.

It's entirely possible Spinnerella won’t want her company after she explains that she was in fact looking for her wife. 

“Kind of? It's... complicated. I was hoping to ask about her nets and if there was any way I could have a string of it permanently for... something. It’s... it's nothing important really so if she’s busy with the event then it can wait.”

Adora fidgets as she explains, a hand reaching into her pocket and pulling out a clump of  _ something _ that her thumb begins to stroke. 

“T-thank you! By the way.. For being so helpful with... you know. The event planning. And everything.”

\---

Spinnerella gestures gently towards the couch when she sees Adora awkwardly looking around for a place to sit. She sits down across from her, setting the steaming kettle down to prepare the tea. 

“She should be back soon...and you can talk to her then. But...there’s been a lot that’s happened in the last few days. Do...you want to talk about it?”

She pours the tea -- cream and sugar to both, knowing Adora likes things sweet.

\---

Adora moves the object in her hand back into her pocket as she is finally offered a seat, only to pull it back out again the minute she is finally comfortable and resumes stroking it with her thumb. It's  _ nice _ to not be alone, and Spinnerella has always had a calming presence about her but it's not so easy for Adora to just... open up. 

“That’s nice of you to ask but... I... there’s not much to say? I guess I’m just... getting married now. Maybe. If I’m not, you know, assassinated or something…”

Adora winces at her own comment and moves to reach for the tea with her hand already holding the something from her pocket and she freezes. Slowly she pulls that hand back and to her chest.

“Spinnerella is it... weird... to want something from... your betrothed?”

\---

She’s stressed, she can tell that much. But she’s known Adora’s been stressed since...well, since she came. Stressed at not being accepted, stressed at being forced to be She-Ra for the comfort of the rebellion. 

And now...stressed over a forced marriage.

But the question catches her off guard -- all this time she had understood that Catra and Adora were enemies. There was little reason to think otherwise, Catra often made it her goal to hurt  _ Adora _ in battle and Adora had spent long strategy sessions explaining how dangerous Catra really was.

So at that question...Spinnerella realizes she’s missed a whole  _ layer _ of this. Of context…

“What do you mean?” she asks gently, watching Adora fuss with something in her hands. 

\---

Adora sits in quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts and its... different to not have one of her friends jump to fill in the gaps for her. To have someone  _ wait _ for her to speak again is... nice.

“Catra... before I left she was my best friend. We did everything together. We fought together, played together, pulled pranks on Kyle together... survived... together,” Adora slowly extends her hand, looking up at Spinnerella as she reveals the blood matted lock of mane Prime had provided for her as  _ proof _ , “I know... its probably gross but.. This is her hair. When I thought she was dead I... had nothing but memories and... its stupid but... I can’t let go of this little bit of hair. She didn’t even  _ send _ it. Not willingly.  _ Prime _ did but…”

Adora brings it back to her chest, holding it to her heart like it held the secrets to ending this war.

“Is it wrong? For me to… want it?”

\---

_ Friends. _

Best friends. 

But it’s clear to her at least that it was something that could and  _ would _ have easily slid more intimate, had they been given the chance. 

Suddenly everything makes  _ sense.  _

She sees the bloodied  _ thing _ in Adora’s hands now, and understands. It brings tears to her eyes.

“...no. That’s not wrong, Adora,” she answers softly. “....I didn’t...realize, though I suppose the pieces were all there.”

Curiosity bubbles in her chest.

“...would...you be excited about a ball? An engagement? If she was here?”

\---

Adora sighs in relief. So she wasn’t  _ crazy _ . Perhaps it was still weird but... at least she wasn’t doing something  _ wrong _ . Her hold relaxes a bit and finally she reaches for the tea with her unused hand to take a sip. Its sweetness is a pleasant surprise.

“It's not your fault... Not realizing it I mean. I didn’t exactly share. Catra... she’s hurt people here. She... she’s done unforgivable things. I couldn’t defend her actions. I  _ shouldn’t _ defend them when so many are just... wrong but…” Adora considers Spinerella’s question and offers a faint nod. “Anyone would be happy to marry their best friend... right?”

\---

Adora’s simple answer slices deep, and Spinnerella can’t help a heartbroken smile as tears threaten the corners of her eyes.

“Are you looking forward to seeing her again?”

Her voice is soft. Encouraging. At first she thought it would be a forced, cruel union, of Adora being bound to someone who had been her sworn enemy for years. 

But now…

\---

A long sip of tea is used as an excuse to fill time as Adora finds herself struggling with how to answer that question. It isn’t so easy as a  _ yes _ or  _ no _ \-- because she is simultaneously looking forward to it and dreading it.

“She... isn’t... It's not…” Adora starts and stops, her eyes boring a hole into the table as her brow wrinkles, “Catra doesn’t want this. Lord Prime’s forcing her and... Shadow Weaver has been... torturing her. She’s hurt so many people Spinnerella... its... I shouldn’t be looking forward to seeing her again. Even if she’s here it's... not the  _ same _ .”

Adora’s voice breaks on that last word and she covers it up with more tea and renewed vigour in stroking her lock of hair.

\---

Spinnerella considers moving over onto the small sofa Adora is currently on, but she knows Adora can be particular about her space. And she doesn’t know her well enough to invite herself into that space.

Still -- it hurts, hearing that voice break. 

“...She has done a number of horrible things. But at this point in the war, anyone willing to help us is an ally, Adora. Even Catra.”

She takes a deep breath.

“...The Alliance fought long and hard about this. There was great concern this is just an opportunity for an assassination but...there was so much faith that  _ you _ could change the tide somehow. To win her over. I cannot promise Brightmoon would  _ love _ her...but at this point...she would be at least accepted as an ally were she to be genuine in her union with you.”

\---

"I'm sure it's an assassination attempt," Adora replys with the coolness born from a child soldier, “Queen Glimmer is the most likely target. It is well known I’m close with her and taking her out would be a surefire way to end the war. I suppose I could also be a target but…”

Adora looks up and looks  _ tired _ . The weight of everything on her shoulders peeking through the walls she’d built up even more then what most keen eyes could see. She looks her age for once, early twenties and  _ lost. _

“I don't... I don’t think Catra will do... anything willingly. She might hate me but... they tortured her. I saw it... Glimmer saw it... they had her…” Adora shakes her head, placing her cup down so she can hug herself as she blinks away tears. Spinerella doesn’t need to see her weakness. A sharp cough to clear her throat and Adora continues, “I think she’ll be glad to be away from Shadow Weaver at least...”

\---

There is...admittedly, little reason why the emperor would extend such an offer, without plans for  _ destruction.  _ Spinnerella...knows this. 

But still -- he often seemed to under estimate how strong  _ love _ and kindness could truly be. And she can’t help but  _ hope _ all the same. Especially to know Adora has feelings for Catra.

Without a word Spinnerella stands, gently walking behind Adora to unfold a blanket and place it over those shoulders. 

She doesn’t linger, moving to walk to a small table and pick up the book she was reading. Old arrangements, unions...tales written more about the power structures and less about the people who lived them.

“...Adora, have you...picked out what you’ll give to her?”

\---

Adora shakes her head No as she takes the blanket placed over those shoulders and adjusts it so she can better snuggle into it. It's soft and distantly she wonders what it is made out of or if perhaps Netossa had a hand in making it. She’s grateful for it all the same. Had Bow or Glimmer been here with her she is sure they would have started hugging her by now but sometimes their affection is... too much. She  _ likes _ their hugs, but there are moments when she wishes they would… ask first. 

“I’ve heard it's supposed to be... personal? But often for arranged marriage it is better to pick something that shows how wealthy and powerful you are -- a status of sorts? The trouble is I don't... really have anything. I don't have a kingdom and I can’t exactly offer the sword of protection over. I…” Adora sighs, why was all of this so  _ hard _ , “There was one Idea but... I don't think the council would.. Approve.” 

\---

“It really depends,” Spinnerella says gently, opening up the book and sitting back in her seat. “...sometimes it’s deeply personal, sometimes a show of strength. Though Angella and Micah were arranged, Angella still offered her mother’s earring...sentimental gifts can be very powerful. What is it you don’t think the council would approve of?”

Her voice is gentle, coaxing. She can tell all of the rituals, the politics was doing nothing but antagonizing Adora’s insecurities and anxieties...and her heart  _ twists. _

\---

Adora considers Spinerella’s words. She hadn’t... known that Angella and Micah were also an arranged marriage. They had seemed so very much in love she had assumed it had to have been fate... 

Her eyes move down to the oddly shaped buckle strapped to her belt and wrapped around her tunic holding it tight. No one had ever really  _ asked _ her about it here, and though her original horde uniform had been replaced by an identical one sans insignia, her buckle remained entirely original. 

A practiced hand unclips the scratched and dented bit of metal and frees it from the bit of leather that made up her belt to better hold it and present it to Spinnerella. 

“I... had been thinking this…”

\---

“Oh!”

Spinnerella accepts the small wing brooch into her hands, smoothing her thumb gently over the scratched, dented metal.

“...believe it or not this is...an excellent choice. Something she could wear on any outfit, or refashion into jewelry. But also...something deeply personal to  _ you. _ Something associated with you. I would be happy to support this to the council, if you’re nervous you’ll be denied.”

Those eyes are soft.  _ Gentle. _

The door opens.

“Spinny, you  _ have _ to see the ballroom. It looks amazing. The hanging lanterns ended up looking like stars -- thanks to  _ me.” _

Netossa suddenly realizes they’re not alone, her eyebrows shooting up.

“Oh. Hello, Adora. Come to get some marriage advice?”

\---

Adora blinks once. Twice. Her choice was...  _ good _ ? The one thing she’d managed to call her own since her time as a cadet back in the Horde wasn’t... wrong? It seemed almost too good to be true and she smiles softly, the image of catra wearing it maybe as a brooch coming to mind. She’d likely tease her about holding onto something that had once been little more than  _ trash _ but... 

Netossa’s arrival causes her to jump, rising to her feet as she is startled out of her thoughts. Before she has time to rebuild her walls and figure out an excuse to leave, the word  _ marriage _ worms its way into her mind and she feels as though she has been hit by a tank all over again.

Her legs lock in place, keeping her standing but she is miles away within her own mind.

_ I’m getting married. To Catra. This is… its happening. I’m getting  _ married _.  _

“....I’m getting married.”

\---

Netossa sees the blank look on that face, the way that expression gets a thousand miles away. 

_...I’m getting married. _

“Been there, Adora,” she mutters with a small chuckle, remembering her cold feet before the wedding. 

But Spinnerella is already close by, resting a gentle hand on Adora’s shoulder.

“...good job, dearest -- you broke her.”

But, with a deep breath and a small smile, Spinnerella places the belt back in Adora’s hand before folding her fingers gently back over it.

“Adora actually came here for some help with something from  _ you, _ Netossa.”

\---

The weight of the buckle in her palm helps ground her and without thinking Adora presents the tuft of hair she’d kept in her other hand to Netossa, scrabbling to hurry up with her reason for coming here at all so she can leave and likely have her panic attack in private.

“I just.. I need some of your netting… a strand to just.. Tie this together so I wont lose it..”

It sounds strained, forced and awkward but at least she managed to get it out without breaking down. She could do this. 

\---

Netossa looks confused -- and a bit disgusted -- but Spinnerella, noticing Adora’s distress, quickly takes over. Carefully... _ gently… _ she takes the tuft of fur from Adora’s hand, cradling it in her own. 

Netossa’s scowl dissipates, and she gently begins to wrap a thin, strong strand around the base of it, trusting Spinnerella will explain a little  _ later. _

“Dearest,” Spinnerella explains softly, “...I think she fears losing it. Do you remember what you did for me when I kept losing my hairbrush when we moved into the Castle?”

“Ah. Yeah. Adora, give me your hand.”

\---

Adora obediently holds out her hand. Commands and instructions. These she could do in her sleep. Her eyes never leave the bit of hair in Netossa’s hands, as if the older woman might decide to throw it away by mistake or that it would suddenly burst into flames and disappear into ash. 

Though trying her absolute best, she isn’t able to stop the light tremor in her outstretched hand and it is all Adora can do to start taking slow, even breaths in and out to stall the encroaching panic.

\---

Netossa connects the strand to a small dot in Adora’s palm. The new strand glows a few moments, then disappears entirely.

“There...that’ll last about a week. Tap the center of that palm and you’ll feel a tug in the direction of where it is, in case you get separated,” Netossa explains softly. 

But that hand is trembling, and Adora’s breathing is slow and even but  _ labored _ in a way she knows from the battlefield is Adora’s way of staving off either  _ fainting _ or an attack of some kind.

“...Adora?”

Dark eyes lift to Spinnerella’s, a sudden  _ nervousness _ at Adora’s state.

Spinnerella gently squeezes that shoulder, trying to catch those eyes as Netossa gently places the now bound tuft of hair back into Adora’s hand.

“Adora? Are you alright, dear?”

\---

Those fingers curl around that bit of hair automatically, that hand lowering down to Adora’s side as gray-blue eyes stare unseeing at something just beyond Netossa’s right shoulder. 

Her head feels fuzzy and both Netossa and Spinnerella’s voices sound far too quiet in her ears. It's almost as if Shadow Weaver’s magic had wormed its way into her very being and begun to slowly squeeze, making breathing harder and harder with each breath.

It's too late for her to run now, she’s lost in the sea of panic and worry and she’s  _ exposed _ here.

It takes everything in her to ignore her  _ fight _ response when Spinnerella squeezes her shoulder, but she isn’t quite able to stop jerking back and away as she avoids the gentle contact. 

“Dont... touch,” her voice is  _ strained _ but above all else she is  _ afraid _ .

\---

Spinnerella moves back smoothly, watching Netossa do similarly. With a small hand gesture, Spinnerella leads her wife out towards the balcony, to open and shut the door with them on the outside.

“...I think at this point we just need to give her some privacy and time. I don’t think she’s had a chance to think about  _ any _ of this.”

\---

It takes Adora an agonizingly long time to realize Spinnerella and Netossa have gone out of the room, out to the  _ balcony _ , to give her some space. Distantly she knows she should feel horrible about that, making them leave their own room for her sake… but at the moment all she can think about is  _ moving _ . 

She begins to pace, wearing away a path along the floor as she considers leaving to head back for the sanctity of her own room but decides against it. Someone might stop her and ask about the wedding and that -- no. She can’t think about that right now.

Moving helps, it always has. She’s not one for idle quiet or stillness and her version of relaxation has always been a good practice session with a training dummy or an intense spar. Neither were particularly possible at the moment and Adora is struck again by how she really  _ should _ learn other ways of coping like Perfuma has suggested.

Eventually the panic starts to fade, her body simply incapable of processing any more of that emotion and the adrenaline coursing through her starts to crash almost as quickly as it came. Eyeing the door Adora considers leaving once more but finds she... doesn’t want to be alone and the princesses outside on that balcony deserve some sort of explanation for all this... but she is tired.

Returning to the love-seat she eyes her now-cold tea and the blanket Spinnerella had placed across her shoulders before all this began. She lifts that blanket and places it in her lap, closing her eyes and waits awkwardly for Spinnerella and Netossa to notice she’s... settled again. Maybe she’ll get up in a moment and tell them but her eyes are feeling awfully heavy so it's best to just.. Close them.. Only for a moment…. 

\---

Between nets and wind, it isn’t difficult to escape from their balcony, to have a rather  _ childish _ moment of sneaking past the guards to help themselves to the food in the kitchen, and have for themselves a rather enjoyable evening. 

An hour passes before Spinnerella cracks the door back open to their room, spying, on the couch, Adora -- and, sure enough...she’s knocked out. 

She puts her finger over her lips, knowing full well how light Adora can sleep from their time on the battle field. But the blanket is close, tantalizingly so, and Spinny gently moves to stretch it out over that body, holding her breath all the while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be the only one with a plug: if you are interested in joining a She-Ra discord server dedicated to fanfiction and fanart creation for the fandom then feel free to ask us for more information in the comments, or search disboard for She-Ra Fan-Art and FanFic AU. We are small but a lovely community and perhaps you'll want to join us :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has some rougher moments so content warning for:  
> >mild violence  
> >references to torture

There was just as much preparation to be done for the Horde as there was in Brightmoon for the ball, though it was of a far  _ different _ nature than decoration. Of course, Shadow Weaver was in charge of most of it, especially anything pertaining to the lovely  _ bride to be _ .

Such a shame Adora had fallen so far. She could not be saved and her  _ weakness _ regarding Catra continued to this very day. 

Shadow Weaver glided through the corridors of the inner workings of the Fright Zone until she came to a stop before a large green force-field. A simple touch of her hand allowed the barrier to become see through as she took in the finely decorated cell that was now Catra’s temporary home. 

“Get up you  _ worthless  _ bag of bones, Lord Prime wishes for me to bring you along to discuss the topic of your wedding.”

\---

Like all other interactions with Shadow Weaver...Catra elects  _ not _ to respond right away. 

She’s curled in her cell’s small window, one overlooking the foundry, with the smoke filling the sky but little else to occupy her sight.

Still. She doesn’t want to move, and does little to even  _ indicate _ she heard the sorceress at all. 

“...I’m sure you both have it covered,” she answers after a moment, eyeing Shadow Weaver out of the corner of her eye. “Besides, it’s not going to work anyways. As I  _ already _ tried to explain -- she hates me.”

It had been some time since Catra had spoken to Shadow Weaver, as most interactions up until this point she was mostly used as a battery rather than anything to  _ speak _ to. And after a few weeks of screaming at her and receiving no response...Catra fell into a several month long silence.

But now they want her compliance, a collar around her neck set on  _ taking _ it if she does not give it willingly. And though the spell is easy enough for Shadow Weaver to use herself, Catra cannot help but force the issue. 

\---

The shadows of the room grow  _ darker _ as Catra begins to speak. Shadow Weaver’s hand moves to the field separating them and it vanishes beneath her touch. She seems to grow in size, the black tendrils of her hair moving in an unnatural wind as she glides closer to her target.

“This was not up for  _ discussion _ ,” Shadow Weaver’s voice booms loud in the small space, her magic crackling already at Catra’s utterly predictable insubordination. “You will do as I say or I will take great pleasure in  _ making you _ . Lord Prime may have granted you more freedoms Catra, but know it is only an illusion. You are still  _ nothing,  _ but perhaps just this once you might be good for something other than being a waste of space and time.”

Shadow Weaver graciously allowed Catra one more  _ opportunity _ to come down from her perch of her own volition. Prime had asked her to be more subtle with her discipline in light of Adora’s agreement.

\---

Regardless of any sort of deathwish Catra may have, Shadow Weaver still  _ terrified _ her. Her heartbeat rises, and against her will, she flinches -- hard -- at the crackling energy and bites into her lip until it  _ bleeds. _

“Do you really think she wants me?” she snaps, her fear rising into an expression of anger and aggression over the desire to cower under her bed. “She doesn’t. You’re both  _ idiots _ if you think she’ll fall for it. You read the letter, she didn’t even  _ write _ it.”

She comes down, closer, but refuses to get  _ too _ close to the woman blocking the door. Refuses to go willingly into those hands. 

Without her mask...without her  _ mane, _ she feels naked in front of her, tail thrashing as she tries to figure out what they even  _ want _ from her. 

“What does he want, anyways. Are you taking  _ more _ from me?”

\---

A snap of her fingers and her magic engulfs Catra’s frame, forcing her still and tensing each muscle until it is painfully tight. Static zips through the air as Shadow Weaver closes the remaining distance between them and cooly wraps a hand around that neck. Long fingers not squeezing but clearly enjoying the ease with which she could do even  _ more _ harm.

“No... I’m sure Adora hates you, but you’ve always managed to be her weakness. She might hate you but she’ll do anything for her precious rebellion, including marrying someone like  _ you _ .”

Shadow Weaver releases her magic and her hand at the same time, allowing Catra to move but still mindful of her claws and teeth. 

“You’ll find out what Lord Prime wants with you when we get there. He wishes to tell you himself. Now come along or do I have to drag you?”

\---

_ Anything for the rebellion. _

Somehow it hadn’t even occurred to her that Adora would consent to marriage for that reason, and when the air is forced violently from her lungs...it hurts less than that reality.

_ She can still see those piercing blue eyes, the fury, the hurt, the betrayal. It had been rivalry for a while. Just for a while. And then, like everything, Catra had ruined it. _

She falls to the ground in a heap, curling up into a ball and coughing violently onto the ground.

“I-I thought I was supposed to be under some sort of  _ princess _ protections,” she snarls under her breath, but she knew from the start that little provision would provide her little aid. 

She struggles, trying to find her feet, but the torture has left it’s toll and she’s  _ slow. _

\---

She  _ laughs _ . Amused by the flash of hurt that crosses Catra’s face and the pitiful attempt at finding leverage where she still has  _ none. _

“Adora never noticed before, do you really think she’ll care to notice it now?” She grins, and though there was no way to see it behind her mask she knows Catra is aware of the change. “As long as I don’t do any  _ permanent _ damage I’m allowed to make sure you are kept in line between now and handing you over at the ball.”

She notices that struggle to stand, that  _ weakness _ and for a moment she considers simply dragging Catra along behind her. It would be amusing and fitting, but she is sure Lord Prime deserves to see Catra as she really is. Pathetic.

“Keep up, you don’t want to make Lord Prime  _ wait _ now do you?”

\---

She doesn’t speak up again, ears pinned flat to her skull as she suffers the wave of humiliation. Of  _ defeat.  _

She manages to her feet and follows, but her mind is elsewhere.

Is there...no chance of proving herself, she wonders. If thrown at Adora’s feet, will she even  _ care? _ Or will another cell await her...to live out her days as Adora’s wife, but imprisoned. Never to see her again…

“Ah, Catra,” comes a low,  _ terrible _ voice, and Catra realizes they’ve arrived, blinking a few times when she realizes she’s lost track of time and space. “Here. Look at this.”

He holds out a piece of paper to Shadow Weaver first, a document containing a legal title change for Catra, that she is now considered a  _ Princess _ of the Horde.

“The first of her line,” Prime explains with a low smile to Shadow Weaver.

\---

She reads the document once, then once more. Catra -- a  _ princess _ . 

“My Lord, I know your power is vast, that you see all and know all so forgive me for asking but are you quite  _ certain _ ?. Such power and position given to one as  _ worthless _ as her seems like a waste.”

She tries to keep it diplomatic, of course, though beneath her smooth talk there is a boiling rage. A title such as this... if anyone should be Hord Prime’s second in command it should be  _ her _ .

“She tried to form a coup against you my Lord. I just want to make sure you are aware that there are possibly better options to be bestowed such an honor...“

\---

“While I appreciate your counsel, Shadow Weaver, understand that there are more enticing prizes than simply saddling Adora with a wife that will make her  _ miserable.” _

His voice threatens, in that subtle, needling way that can be so frightening-- _ his _ charm can be almost impossibly frightening, as the smile rarely fades to a frown, yet his words, all the same, carry with them the force and threat that any of Shadow Weaver’s booming voice, crackling magic, or darkening shadows have.

But fortunately, for now -- it’s only leveled at Shadow Weaver, something that for now...Catra is grateful. At the very least, the attention is off of her.

“The Horde has no reason to consider Catra anyone of power. She has no army beneath her, no command, and I have no intention of giving her any. But the title of princess  _ does _ allow for some...interesting political play.”

He steps over to Catra, his grin widening when her instinct is to step  _ back. _

“She will be wed to a princess of the alliance, which means, at the time of the wedding, she will be considered a princess of the alliance. There is no formal acceptance or disavowing of such a title. And after she’s killed Adora...there will be nothing stopping us from taking Brightmoon.”

His claw-like fingers play with Catra’s shortened mane.

\---

She dips her head in deference to her Lord as he speaks, fortunate that her mask does not give away the scowl on her face as he begins to explain his plan. She knows she has overstepped but still she is disgusted by the thought of  _ Catra _ with a title... 

By the end of his explanation however, she can see his point and she must concede it is a good plan if all goes according to it.

“Forgive me Lord Prime, you are truly more forward thinking then I could ever hope to be. Such a plan is masterful and the world will be better once it is under your command.”

Her head turns to take in Catra and again she smiles, her voice taking on a much more  _ eager _ tone as she asks, “Did you have a plan for how she will kill Adora?”

\---

_ Adora...they want her to kill Adora… _

She’s had nightmares of the times she came close, the realization, only after her rise to power had been cut short...to realize how close she had come to snuffing out the person who meant the most to her.

And now…

Her gaze lifts, ears pinning flat. And she opens her mouth to speak, to snap out some sharp comment that she’d  _ never _ do that but all that comes out of her throat is a pathetic  _ wheeze. _

Horde Prime’s eyes light up with delight, that mouth pulled into such a  _ smile. _

“Ah ah ah, little sister. None of that now.”

Catra tries to move, to  _ struggle,  _ but blistering pain from the collar makes her far too vulnerable to stop a sudden sense of  _ powerlessness _ as her hand lifts, sliding across her own chest. And a voice, her own yet  _ not _ her will, sounds from her throat. 

“...Adora,” comes that voice, as her eyes lift to Shadow Weaver, her expression of pain leaving her in favor of a  _ seductive _ one. “...Dear,  _ sweet _ Adora...won’t you come to bed with me?”

\---

Shadow Weaver is as impressed as she is disgusted in being made to watch Catra be  _ seductive _ . Prime’s control over Catra and his ability to wield magic is something she enveys but she knows letting her Lord know that would be a fast way to a shallow grave.

“She’ll need more provocative attire in order to catch Adora’s eye,” Shadow Weaver offers as she turns to look at Prime, “But once again you have found a truly brilliant solution to our problems, my Lord.”

With a hum, Shadow Weaver slowly glides around Catra, considering all she knows about Adora and her  _ fondness _ for Catra. The short hair was necessary, that mane far too matted to be saved, but Adora may find the change disagreeable. Would that be enough to jeopardize their mission? Best to leave nothing to chance.

“Have you considered... other magic by chance?”

\---

Catra feels her own hand slide down the soft white robes, before  _ gasping _ and falling to her knees as the control leaves her. 

“I shall leave you in charge of that, then. But I want a high collar and a soft white cape. Everything else is up to you.”

Terrified bicolored eyes stare at the ground as Catra gasps for air, clawing into the white robes in a sudden fit of desire to claw at her own flesh. And with Shadow Weaver and Horde Prime discussing her, like a  _ puppet… _

Her claws drag into her arm, past the muslin cloth and  _ down _ , her ears pinning flat at the sensation of her claws in her own  _ skin. _

“And what do you propose?” Prime asks, his attention drawn away from Catra, enough not to see the muslin staining  _ red. _

\---

She sees the red and it brings her such  _ joy _ to know Catra is suffering in this moment. It's such a shame someone in brightmoon had the forethought to include a stipulation not to do Catra any further harm. 

“That’s  _ quite _ enough of that,” Shadow weaver says with a snap of her fingers and Catra is surrounded once more by her magic, forcing those claws away from those arms as she is hoisted into the air so that the damage can be inspected. “It will heal in time, but I shall have to restrain you if you do this again Catra. You’re precious  _ Adora _ didn’t want any harm to come to you.”

Lowering Catra to the ground, her magic moves to engulf just those now-bloody arms, forcing them out and down until those palms lay flat against the cold floor. That done, the sorceress turns her attention back to her Lord and continues a languid circle around her former ward.

“I will be sure to include a cape and collar -- but what I propose is nothing more than a charm, one that will ensure Adora finds her intended to be... irresistible.”

\---

Horde Prime steps over that trembling body, using the toe of his boot to lift that chin up.

“Mmm. Such a thing may be necessary, I suppose. While her feelings for Adora may be painfully  _ clear _ , there’s no indication her intended has any feelings in return.”

That terrible chuckle forms in his throat, as he takes advantage of Shadow Weaver’s magic to keep those palms down and  _ still _ to press, slowly at first, his heel into sensitive fingers.

“What a  _ mess _ you made of that, little sister. If you wanted her so badly, why did you spend so long  _ making _ her a force for the Alliance?”

He’s forced to speak louder, over the sharp scream she gives before he relents, snapping his fingers to release Shadow Weaver’s magic and let her curl into herself like the pathetic waste she is. 

He lifts her chin, this time with his fingers, smiling cruelly at the tears forming at the corners of her eyes as she cradles her hand to her chest. 

“You can even choose, little sister. Poison, perhaps? Or would you rather something more traditional...perhaps a blade through her heart? Or perhaps we can be  _ creative. _ Daggers can be so  _ boring... _ perhaps you’d like to use your claws to tear out her heart? Ooh, I like that. What a lovely trophy that would make.”

_ No. No! _

Even with fingers aching on her dominant hand, the sadism dripping from his tone brings fury out, strong and  _ wickedly _ cruel, and she hits him across the face, leaving four tight gashes across his cheek.

Before she can enjoy that small moment of  _ victory --  _ as well as the hope that he’ll drop this attempt and simply kill her out of rage -- control leaves her body for a second time, the collar turning white hot before her body is not her own.

She’s puppeted, turned around and forced to kneel in front of Shadow Weaver.

“Take her for her fitting. We will be leaving soon for Brightmoon.”

* * *

Distant songs of birds greeted the late morning light, as a gentle breeze brought with it the scent of breakfast. 

Beneath a soft blanket, Adora’s stomach rumbled expectantly. The Princess of Power was not one to miss a meal unless absolutely necessary, a habit born from her days where food was revoked as punishment for failure. 

It was rare for her to sleep in, so when blue eyes finally cracked open Adora was at first surprised by the time. It took her longer than she would ever admit to realize that she was not in her own room -- but when the reality of the previous night finally hit she was  _ anything _ but tired.

A quick glance around the room revealed she was alone, and the thought that she had forced Spinnerela and Netossa from their own room was a terrible one. How selfish could she be? She’d come here for a simple -- 

Panic flared in her chest as she realized the tuft of hair, the entire  _ reason _ she’d come, was not in her hand. A quick search revealed it to be in her pocket, along with a note?

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes Adora spent a few moments just breathing, steadying her poor heart back down to a more acceptable rhythm before opening the folded bit of paper.

The script was fluid and had an air of a practiced grace that instantly reminded her of Spinnerella. The message was brief, only a few words explaining how they’d gone down for breakfast and didn’t want to wake her -- but that they would be dining in and would return shortly with a meal for her as well.

“I guess I... Wait then?” Adora asks the room at large as she settles back down onto the loveseat awkwardly.

\---

Adora tended to like simple food and  _ sweets --  _ something that made finding breakfast food for She-Ra rather  _ easy.  _ Spinnerella and Netossa return to their chambers holding a plate of waffles and a side of eggs and hashbrowns.

They both look at each other before Spinnerella knocks on her own door, finding the gesture rather...silly. But necessary.

“Adora? Dear? We brought you some breakfast.”

They step in after fair warning, looking around to try to spot her.

\---

It hadn’t been very long before Adora found just  _ sitting _ to be altogether impossible for her to continue, so she set about folding the blanket she had borrowed for the evening and placing it neatly over the back of the love seat. That done she considered trying to make herself useful somehow and since Spinnerella had made tea for her... perhaps she could offer them some upon their return.

By the time Spinnerella and Netossa made themselves known and rejoined Adora in their chambers, the former Horde soldier had started a fire, set the kettle on, and was in the midst of delicately searching for tea cups without being forced to rummage through the older women’s things. 

She stood there awkwardly, lifting a hand in greeting as she gestured with the other to the fireplace. 

“I made… tea?”

\---

Spinnerella’s smile softens and brightens at the gesture and, indeed, the smell of tea. If she had known Adora better, she might have given her a hug, but instead she gives a very warm, approving nod and sets about setting their small dining table.

“We got you some pancakes,” Netossa starts, setting out a plate stacked high with syrupy goodness, “Some eggs, hashbrowns. You know, the kind of stuff you happily scarf down by the campfire.”

She teases, but both she and Spinnerella know Adora hasn’t been herself the past few months. That included her appetite. 

“You’re always welcome to come hide in here if the...arrangements get too exciting. We don’t mind, Adora,” Spinnerella adds as she opens the cabinet left of where Adora was lightly searching to produce some tea cups.

“Do you want to eat on the balcony?” Netossa offers gently, wondering if the fresh air might do Adora some good.

\---

Adora watches as the two women maneuver around their space with an ease she is just a little bit envious of. Adora has lived in brightmoon for years now and she still doesn’t quite feel like she  _ fits _ . The food they’ve brought her does make her stomach rumble and Netossa’s idea of sitting outside sounds nice so she nods and moves to help take everything out for their meal. 

“You... really mean it?” Adora asks once she’s finally sat down and her plate set before her, “About... coming here if I needed someplace to go? I mean.. I.. I should apologize about last night. I really didn’t mean to... act like I did, and I  _ especially _ didn’t mean to make you both sleep somewhere else.”

She  _ tries _ to maintain eye contact with one, and then the other, but such things have always been harder for Adora then she lets on -- so she inevitably looks down at her plate and forces herself to take small bites. Maybe if she starts eating she’ll enjoy it.

\---

“Of course, Adora. And don’t worry about us. We have...several  _ favorite _ spots to spend the night,” Spinnerella answers, giving Netossa a soft,  _ knowing _ look. 

But...there is the matter of what they heard downstairs.

“...they are looking for you though. Queen Glimmer...would like to go over dresses for the ball.”

Not the wedding. She’s careful to avoid that word. Just the ball.

Carefully... _ gently… _

“...I think it might help you to think of one thing at a time. It’s just a ball. Just like Princess Prom a few years ago.”

Catra had  _ also _ attended that ball, coming in a suit sharp enough to  _ cut.  _ All looks, all distraction. 

\---

“Oh -- like sleepover spots? I guess that makes sense,” Adora comments, completely missing the look the wives share.

The thought of a dress is... nice. She liked the dress she wore to princess prom -- to an extent. It  _ felt _ amazing even though tactically speaking it was a pretty terrible choice of attire. The thought of spending all day with Glimmer playing dressup with her however... sounds far less appealing and Adora buys herself a bit longer to reply by taking another bite of pancake and chewing very slowly.

It's then that she remembers Catra’s suit. Her mane wild and those top buttons left undone. A tie purposefully left loose and it was so unquestionably  _ Catra _ . 

Her face grows warm at the memories, mouth suddenly dry and in  _ desperate _ need of that tea.

“Yea... one thing at a time… I’m… meant to wear a specific color or something right?”

\---

Spinnerella notices the blush climbing into those ears at the mention of Princess Prom, remembering Catra’s presence and wondering if that’s what’s got Adora diving for her tea.

“...I think you’ll have to check with Glimmer. She’s...well. I think your friends are so worried about you they’ve taken to an obsessive level of planning. I think they want you in red though--since you already look so nice in it.”

Her smile kind. Gentle. 

“It’ll be alright, Adora.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some warnings for some more aggressive violence (in a dream). Dream is italicized at the end, if you wish to skip.  
> cw for:   
> **blood**  
>  **death threats**

She doesn’t remember most of the journey.

The carriage is small and contains  _ Shadow Weaver, _ and inevitably, Catra beings to dissociate. Hours pass. Maybe days. 

Her dress has been selected, tailored to fit tightly across her thinned body. She’s seen it, seen herself in the mirror…

_ Unrecognizable. _

No mane, no headpiece. Her eyes look hollow. Her mane has never been so short, so  _ tamed, _ cut in a close crop and slicked and combed back. Shadow Weaver caught her sensitive ears half a dozen times on that needle sharp comb...

_ Will Adora even...recognize me? _

She’s...not sure. 

The door opens to the carriage, Catra realizing she didn’t even notice it had stopped. Lord Prime stands there.

“Catra.” his voice is a terrible order, and almost instantly...Catra’s hands begin to tremble. “Come  _ here, _ child.”

\---

The journey had been long and tedious. Especially when either her own or Lord Prime’s magic could have  _ easily _ teleported them to their destination in a matter of minutes instead of the long arduous journey by carriage. Catra at least had been blissfully silent and easily mannered. Had this taken place before Adora’s defection from the Horde it may have even been  _ enjoyable _ , but it wasn’t and Shadow Weaver was forced to spend their trip planning ways to bring about the demise of her once favorite ward. 

It was a pity it would have to end like this, Adora was not hers by blood but she had raised the child from an infant into the most promising soldier the Horde had ever seen. To have so many years of hard work and effort be thrown away was truly a tragedy -- but there was no bringing Adora back now. She was too dangerous and so, she would have to die. 

As they neared Brightmoon they stopped at one of the villages, Thaymor, to allow their presence in the area to be known and for the locals to begin spreading the word which no doubt Queen Glimmer and her Rebellion had been trying to keep underwraps -- or at the  _ very  _ least control the narrative. That simply could not be allowed to happen.

They had other reasons for stopping, however, and it seemed Catra had failed to comprehend that she was meant to join them outside the carriage.

“Do hurry up -- your time might not be important but you will  _ not _ waste our leaders by dallying around! Besides, this stop is  _ primarily _ for you to choose a gift for your precious Adora. I should expect you’d be more  _ eager _ .”

\---

Catra doesn’t respond right away -- it always takes her  _ time _ to come out of dissociation, and when ushered from the carriage and into the village -- her heart suddenly  _ stops. _

_ Thaymor. They’re in Thaymor. _

She stood there, barely 20 yards from where the carriage now stands. Her first mission. To rescue Adora from insurgent forces. To save her from  _ Princesses.  _

Adora, instead of being  _ grateful _ to her for the help getting away, leveled her with an expression of disgust and horror. A half hearted plea to join her...but otherwise...her loyalty was  _ elsewhere.  _ Fixed on her new friends. 

Tears gather in her eyes. 

_ “Come with me, Catra!” _

_ Oh how she wishes she had chosen that path now.  _

She had been so sure Adora would go home with her. So very  _ certain. _

A sudden touch startles her -- the deceptively  _ gentle _ press of clawed fingers into her neck, around her collar, the light touch a contrast when half a moment later her vision goes white and all she knows is  _ agony. _

“You seem keen on punishment today,” Prime purrs, his voice low but  _ booming _ in her ear. “Such a  _ perverse  _ little animal you are.”

The pain leaves, but her body twitches in terror as she shuffles in step behind her emperor.

\---

Shadow Weaver glides a step behind Prime and a step before Catra. Prime’s most trusted clones accompanied them for added security, though it was hardly needed in this pathetic village. 

“Pay attention now Catra as I will be only saying this once,” she begins, never looking back to make sure Catra was  _ actually _ paying attention, “It is a tradition amongst the princesses to provide to each other a trinket of some kind. It is to be worn as a symbol of your engagement to one another. While we are stopped here you are going to pick something to give to Adora. Make sure it’s something she’ll be able to wear -- it doesn’t matter if she actually does or not.”

\---

The only indication that Catra heard Shadow Weaver is a single ear, swiveled but drooped in her direction, her body  _ aching _ from the cruel attack. Still, she hears enough, and after the brutal pain, she cannot actually  _ stop _ the tears.

_ Something for Adora... _

Tired eyes lift as she’s directed into a small jewelry shop, and once the door shuts and she realizes Prime and Shadow Weaver aren’t going to hover for this decision, she takes advantage of a nearby glass case to rest against, fighting the desire to vomit. 

\---

“I’d kill you right now if you weren’t property of Prime and that witch,” the store owner snorts, dark ears tucked back and head lowered to show off their horns. 

They are adorned head to toe with examples of the goods they sell, and though only a bit taller then Catra it is clear they would not hesitate to follow through with their threat. 

“Do you even know how many you killed? How long it took us to rebuild? I’m not sure why you lot are headed to brightmoon but I will glad to never see you again.”

\---

Despite her swimming vision, the desire to curl up into a tiny ball...the shopkeeper’s  _ fury _ brings a sense of peace to her. Those slitted eyes follow up and down that form, blinking a few times to maintain herself as she stays planted against the glass, a thinly veiled attempt to keep from falling.

Careful ears flick back, knowing Prime and Shadow Weaver are close but...their hearing isn’t nearly as sharp as her own. 

“You could do Brightmoon a favor now. I’ll take you up on the offer,” she answers without a shred of sarcasm or mocking. 

She doubts, however, that the shopkeep would be willing to -- as they already said, both the Emperor and Shadow Weaver were  _ terrifying _ threats. Unfortunate the desire for revenge might be stilted that way.

“...I know my red list runs miles long. If nothing else, his most divine majesty has no idea what jewelry is worth and he’s ridiculously stacked. This little purchase could set your village for quite a while.”

\---

If the shopkeep was surprised at Catra’s willingness to die, they didn’t show it. If anything, there was a brief fleeting smile. Nothing more than a uptick of a lip at the thought of running the former Force Captain through.

“Get your  _ filthy _ paws off my glass and maybe we’ll talk,” they reply, looking none too pleased at the thought but conceding that money would help more than a body would. Especially if killing Catra would result in Thaymor being wiped off the map. 

The shopkeep moves from around the main counter, a cloth in hand with a clear intent to fix the smudging Catra had left. 

\---

There’s no compulsion to  _ apologize, _ but when she’s told to get her paws off the glass, Catra’s expression falls slightly. 

“...Can I sit somewhere, then?” 

Her voice is soft. She doesn’t expect any kindness but she figures she might as well  _ ask. _

“...look, I don’t want to be here. And I know you don’t want  _ me _ here. But if you help me out I’ll do what I can to convince him on a high price.”

\---

“What? The ground isn’t good enough for you? Fine.”

With a huff the shop keep moves behind the counter and finds a cushion designed for sitting on. A simple toss gets it about half way to Catra’s position.

“What  _ exactly _ are you looking for here. I want you gone as soon as possible and clearly you intend to stay until you’ve found it.”

\---

Catra tries to move off of the glass towards the cushion, but -- predictably -- she doesn’t make it. Turns out the ground  _ was _ good enough.

Accepting the humiliation, she closes her eyes, resting her back to the wall.

Moments pass after the shopkeep’s valid question, but Catra doesn’t know how to answer -- cryptically or straight forward.

She ultimately decides….straight forward.

“...it’s a wedding gift. For She-Ra. So it….should be something really nice.” 

Her eyes stay closed, tail wrapped around her ankles.

“...She’ll kill me so don’t worry about seeing me again,” she says softly, ears flicked back. It may be optimistic but she’s certain she can get under that skin enough to find herself at the end of that blade.

She  _ has _ to.

“....s-she had an obsession. As a kid...with dragons. Do you...have anything like that?”

\---

The mention of She-Ra catches the shop keep by surprise, their ears moving from a pinned back to an upright position as if they were checking to make sure they heard Catra right. In the time it had taken Catra to find her voice they had already finished cleaning the smudges from their display glass so they immediately start moving around the shop, considering pieces. 

“Does She-Ra have any preference in colors? Did you have a type of piece in mind? A necklace? Ring? Brooch? Bracelet?” 

They don't really wait for an answer as they begin selecting pieces where dragons are a prominent part of the design. Truthfully they  _ don't _ have a wide selection. Dragons have been out of fashion for some time now, but every once in a while someone will come in and fall in love with their powerful design. Usually it’s someone going off to fight. Usually... that someone does not come back. 

\---

Her eyes stay closed until she hears those hoof steps come close. She tries to sit up, struggling…

But there...on the tray...in the center...a beautiful golden bangle, fit with a rainbow of gemstones but predominantly red ones. 

Against her will, tears spring to Catra’s eyes. 

She reaches for it but stops, biting down on her lip. 

She shouldn’t touch it. She’ll...make it filthy. Just like everything else. 

“...t-that one. The gold bangle. She -- she’d really like that….”

Her voice is trembling and there, in the privacy of this small shop, the tears start and they don’t stop. 

“...t-thanks. Name your price, I...I’ll tell him.”

\---

Without a word the shopkeep turns around and leaves Catra to her tears. They have to wrap it up anyway and it annoys them that this murderer could have  _ good  _ taste in jewelry. It's the one that they would have suggested had Catra asked their opinion. It was amongst their finest pieces too. 

It would be an honor to have She-Ra wearing something of theirs, but the fact that it was for an engagement -- left a sour taste in their mouth. 

Ten minutes went by, as the shopkeep wrapped the box in gold paper with silver leaves and flowers decorating it. The colors matched the gold and white motif of She-Ra -- or at least they were as close as the store had for an option. The final addition was a silky red ribbon, wrapped to keep the box closed and tied off with a bow.

It was placed in a bag for safe keeping, and the shopkeep wrote a price with two extra zeros added on for Catra to take back to Prime with her.

“If you’re done -- I’ll just need payment before you can leave.” 

\---

Catra struggles to her feet, giving a small nod. The few minutes resting on the ground has let some of her strength return, so she isn’t as shaky on her feet when she opens the door to make eye contact with Prime.

She feels a sudden wave of dread come over her when he walks closer, but not for herself. For this shop. So she stops him at the door, something that makes those two additional eyes of his open a little wider.

_ Dangerous. _

“I’ve already picked. This was the price.”

All four eyes fall to the slip of paper and Catra suddenly feels her blood run cold, when two of those eyes fall back to her. 

“...and you have...negotiated for this price, little sister?”

The small smile across his face makes Catra’s heart threaten to stop. She tastes blood from how far her fang pierces into her cheek.

“They don’t  _ like _ me, alright? You should have checked in with Shadow Weaver. This town  _ knows _ me.”

That grin grows. 

“Then perhaps  _ I  _ should teach you how to negotiate.”

_ We have to put a stop to this! _

_ Why? _

_ Because this is a  _ **_civilian_ ** _ town, Catra! They’re not rebel insurgents! They’re innocent people! _

“No,” she manages, keeping her body, small and  _ tired _ as it is, between Prime and the inside of the shop. “It doesn’t matter. Besides, don’t you want them to have a good impression of us? A generous one?”

His expression darkens. But that smile stays. 

“Very well, little sister,” he  _ purrs, _ meticulously counting out the gold coins into her palm before giving her a sharp shove towards the shop keep. “Let no one say I am not  _ generous.” _

Knowing her little stunt will cost her dearly, Catra walks forward, dropping the coins onto the counter with a badly trembling hand before carefully reaching for the bag.

She spares the shop keep one last look before moving back to Prime’s side.

* * *

_ The Whispering Woods were quiet as Adora knelt in the cold dirt, staring at the small grave marked  _ **_Catra_ ** _ in a language only a small few knew how to decipher any longer. There was no body in the ground beneath her, and though she remembered planting flowers the entire area was barren. Devoid of the life she had worked so hard to bring to this place.  _

_ She couldn’t remember when she had come here, or how long she had been sitting here just... staring. Sadly, it wasn’t uncommon for this to be so. Adora often lost track of time when she was out here. Hours spent in one position or another until she finally realized it was getting late -- that Glimmer and Bow would worry and her body was in agony from staying so still. _

_ Blinking a few times, she tried to gage what time it was now, but everything around her was just slightly gray -- slightly off. _

_ \--- _

_ “...wow. I knew you were pathetic but I didn’t know how bad it was,” comes a voice, as the air grows colder, stinging... _

_ In the tree, some 20 feet above the small grave -- the image of Catra, mane tangled and knotted and eyes wild and contemptuous. Those lips pulled into an awful grin… _

_ Sadism, in its purest form. _

_ “A grave for me? You’ll have to rewrite the stone when I put one of your friends down there instead. Won’t that be fun, Adora?” _

_ She laughs, cruel, echoing laugh. _

_ \--- _

_ Thats right... Catra is alive… _

_ Adora’s thoughts feel slow as she looks up. Her heart aches as she takes in that disheveled appearance. Catra had always prided herself on maintaining her mane. It was the only reason she’d been allowed to keep it so long and unbound. To see it like this...  _

_ “I won’t let you Catra!” Adora yells back, finally replying to the threat -- thoughts of Bow’s near lifeless body cradled in Glimmer's arms, her sobs and his rattling wheeze, come unwillingly to mind. _

_ She-Ra had saved him. Adora had known she was meant to heal but had no concept of how. She had never been taught. Light Hope was gone and with her, any answers. It had seemed so hopeless and for a moment Adora had been so sure she would fail -- when the world went white. _

_ When she had come back to herself -- Bow was better. Alive. Going to make it.  _

_ But what if she couldn’t do that again?  _

_ \--- _

_ Catra lands in front of her, weathering the 20 foot leap like it was nothing.  _

_ “And what are you going to do to stop me? You wanted the wedding, Adora…” _

_ She suddenly comes close, claws ripping into Adora’s clothes -- one set of claws going straight for her stomach while the other set snatches the small tuff of fur from a pocket. _

_ “....what the hell is this, anyways? You’re  _ **_sick.”_ **

_ \--- _

_ She can’t move. Everything is slow as Catra lands, her claws lightning fast and Adora remains knelt over the empty grave. The pain is slower than the warmth of blood and numbly Adora tries to press a hand to the wound as tears well up in her eyes. _

_ “Catra... please…” her other hand reaches up, towards that tuft of fur -- towards her future wife, “please... it doesn’t have to be like this... we can end this war…” _

_ It hurts. That hate she sees in those eyes. Why couldn’t she move. If she could stand… if she could just reach out and touch -- maybe it would all make sense. Maybe Catra would reconsider...  _

_ \--- _

_ “Oh, we’ll end this war alright,” Catra purrs, her claws stabbing deeper into Adora’s abdomen before she withdraws, thumbing that mat of hair in her palm until it starts to fly away in the wind. “....we’ll end it, and I’ll make you watch, Adora...I promised you revenge and now I’m going to have it.” _

_ The blood pours forth, soaking the stone below. And while Catra’s grin is sharp and sadistic...another scene plays just below, within the reflection of the blood. _

_ It’s a very different scene -- as the blood pouring from Adora widens the picture, makes it clearer -- and makes the Catra standing in front of her seem fainter, somehow. _

_ Catra’s voice -- no longer soaked with sadism -- cries from within the pool. _

_ “P-please, Adora--” _

_ \--- _

_ Adora stands before her, slowly approaching with a smirk on her face. The Sword of Protection in one hand, something smaller and undeterminable in the other. _

_ “You made your choice Catra. Time and time again,” She says, a sharp and brutal roundhouse kick sent directly for those ribs. Aimed to break them, “You said you wanted to control me -- use me as a weapon. Would you like to see how sharp I can be?” _

_ \--- _

_ If there was one thing Adora excelled at, it was strength, and she proves she still has it in spades when that boot slams into an already abused body. She cries -- a pathetic, wheezing gasp of a sob shuddering against now broken ribs as she rolls into a ball, her tail tightly curled between her legs and wrapping pathetically against her thigh. _

_ “A-adora -- ” she tries before her breath cuts off, coughing onto the ground as she tries to look back, trying to make out what she’s holding in her left hand. _

_ There’s no fighting it -- no attempts to scramble away. Just wide, pathetic eyes and a broken body. _

_ \--- _

_ “For the Honor of Greyskull!” _

_ Adora transforms, her body glowing as She-Ra looms over Catra’s prone form. The tip of that sword moves to lift that chin upwards. _

_ “Oh Catra... you’re mine now.. And that means I get to do whatever I want.” _

_ That left hand moves forward, revealing the crystal from the Northern Reach, inexplicably made whole one more.  _

_ With a murderous glee She-Ra taps the corrupted gem to her swords rune, red pulsing tendrils immediately wrapping around the hilt and up her arm.  _

_ The scream turns to a laugh as those eyes look down. Red. _

_ \--- _

_ Her vision is already fading, when she sees the corruption, the red eyes. Unable to do much else, she rolls, coughing blood onto the ground.  _

_ And while the threat of an agonized death at the hands of a corrupted She-Ra demand her attention, she still catches her reflection in the blood. _

_ And...she sees Adora, for a precious few seconds -- bloodied, kneeling in the Whispering Woods...gazing back at her.  _

And then she startles awake.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i sat for 3 hours making art to go at the top of each chapter today. Chapter 1 has some art to look at if you wanna peek!
> 
> No warnings for this chapter. The origami **will** make you cry tho.

“Adora…” Glimmer tries _again,_ tapping on the door when she hears _crying._ She’s locked the door, the talk about weddings and balls too much for her, and though Glimmer could just _blink_ in, it seemed...inappropriate. Violating. “Adora _please,_ open up!”

\---

Adora startles awake, heart racing, cheeks wet with tears and sweat. She looks up at the dress hanging on the back of the changing screen. Today is the day. The day Prime shows up to negotiate possible _Peace._ The day of the ball... the day of her and Catra’s engagement. 

_Catra..._

Glimmer’s pounding on her door stops her from reflecting on her dream _too_ much. It had just felt so real... the stress must be getting to her head. Thats all. 

“Coming! Just -- give me a minute Glimmer!”

She has to hide the fact that she was crying as much as possible. She can’t afford to have Glimmer worrying about her. Not when she’ll be trying to work out a deal with Prime _and_ hosting the ball.

A quick dash to the waterfall for some refreshing water splashed against her face will have to do. There is no cure for the puffy eyelids but she feels better for the _attempt_ and heads to the door to unlock it and let the queen in.

“Glimmer… hey…”

\----

Adora...looks like a mess, and Glimmer reaches up, timidly -- _gently --_ to cup her cheek.

“...I...I heard you crying...I know you’ve been needing more time to yourself, I just….I’ve been so worried, Adora…”

Carefully, aware of Spinnerella’s gentle advisement, she moves _slowly_ in for a hug, wanting to _comfort_. To soothe the fear and pain her best friend is suffering. 

“...it’s gonna be alright, Adora...I promise. We’re right by your side…”

Adora’s state brings the queen to tears as well, and she stays locked against her.

“...I brought some wrapping paper...some ribbons and flowers...we should prepare your engagement gift. We….received word they’ll...be here before lunch.”

\---

Adora leans into the hug, grateful that she had time to see it coming and choose to lean in, rather than away. It doesn’t occur to her that Spinnerella might have warned her friends of her current state -- of her more frequent anxiety attacks and several bouts of time loss spent in Spinnerella and Netossa’s company. 

“I’m... I really am grateful. For everything. You and Bow have done so much work and I just -- I wouldn’t have even known where to _start_. I didn’t mean to worry you… but I didn’t want to get in the way,” Adora admits, trying her best not to cry even though she can feel her shirt start to grow damp from Glimmer’s tears.

Blue eyes move to examine the selection of wrapping paper, Glimmer providing a few different options for Adora to choose. Not so many to overwhelm, but enough that it will feel personal. 

The Princess of Power chooses to ignore the fact that they have only hours until Lord Prime arrives. Until _Catra_ arrives. She is sure that if she dwells on that fact too much she will panic -- and they don’t have time for that. Adora can not afford to be weak. Not today.

\---

They sit. Glimmer has a lot more experience wrapping presents, so she carefully takes the small metal wing and polishes it.

“What kind of color would you like? Go ahead and pick some paper. There’s no wrong answer.”

Glimmer had come to realize she had made everything into a bit of a political _trap_ for poor Adora, and with a few thoughtless words she had made something as simple as _color_ choices into a bigger issue than it should have been. And now...all she wants...is to see Adora pick colors she likes.

“...do you want me to teach you how to fold the paper? I know how to make paper unicorns.”

\---

Adora considers the options provided. In truth she finds a lot of the overly patterned ones to be difficult to look at for long periods. The stripes and spots all seem so _loud_ and she quickly dismisses them for darker tones and more solid colors. She reaches out finally, to select a solid darker maroon. Perhaps it was in poor taste but Catra had always seemed to _like_ the red hues of the Horde’s attire, and this shade in particular reminded her of the suit she had worn to Princess Prom.

She offers it to Glimmer, along with a golden ribbon to accent it with and considers Glimmer’s question.

“I don’t understand... you can make a unicorn out of paper? Don’t you mean drawing on it? What does folding have anything to do with it?”

\---

Glimmer gently hands Adora the box, the tissue paper, and the now polished buckle.

“Here --” she says gently. “It’s good luck for you to put it in the box yourself. Close the box and kiss it.”

A small ritual, tiny and precious. Something no one else will know about. She worries no amount of luck in the universe can save this ill fated wedding...she worries Adora will only know suffering from this.

_Still._

“It’s called origami,” she explains sweetly, selecting a piece of textured paper to begin folding. “I have a jar in my room I fill up with stars since they’re really cute and easy to make.”

Within a few quick creases, she has a small, puffy little star she hands to Adora.

“Unicorns take longer but...well. They look fancier.”

\---

Adora takes the box and the buckle gingerly, not wanting to mess up the polish or wrinkle the wrapping paper. Carefully she places one in the other and closes the lid but… she does not kiss it. Not yet. She waits until Glimmer is busy getting the paper ready to show her how to make the stars to steal a quick kiss to the lid of the box.

It's been two weeks and she isn’t quite sure what her friends think of all this. There hasn’t been time and there was no universe in which Adora would say _no_ . They needed this peace, as fragile as it is, and if her marriage to Catra could even possibly bring an end to this war then it would be worth it. Still, she wasn’t sure what Glimmer _felt_ about it. Was she... angry that Adora was to marry Catra? Would it have been better if it was some other force captain?

She tries to imagine what it would be like if Prime had offered her _Octavia_ and her stomach flips unpleasantly. 

Fortunately Glimmer is right there with a perfect distraction. The stars seem easy enough but her first attempt ends... poorly. 

“Show me the unicorn while I practice the star? I think I get the idea…” 

\---

Adora has _always_ been a quick study, and Glimmer has always admired her for being able to learn, not through _instruction_ but mere observation. Adora has already memorized the steps the _first_ time through. So...Glimmer starts on the unicorn. 

Adora’s thinking face is _adorable,_ the way she bites on her tongue and tilts her head. It’s been so long since she’s had any expression what wasn’t exhausted acceptance… the trembling anticipation of something bad, so _bad_ about to happen…

“I’ll get you a jar,” Glimmer offers gently. “It takes a few to get the hang of it but...once you do, it’s just...the perfect little thing to do with your hands.”

She wonders if Adora needs more things like that. More to do with her hands…

\---

The first star, frankly, was a disaster. None of the points came out quite right and overall it was hardly recognizable as what it was meant to be. The second star she took her time with, careful to only make sleek crisp folds. Even if they didn't _quite_ line up she pushed forwards and by the end of it proudly showed Glimmer the finished product. It wasn't perfect, but it was defiantly a star.

"I did it! You're right, this is fun… and the unicorn looks a lot more challenging…"

Adora attempts it, but only managed to memorize the first six steps, the remaining dozen or so she's forgotten and eventually shows where she'd gotten stuck to Glimmer. Wordlessly asking for guidance.

\---

Glimmer shows her, again, the last few complicated steps, smiling brightly when the activity seems to catch Adora’s near complete attention. 

“The first fold is always terrible,” she says with a smile, “But they’re pretty easy to get the hang of after a few.”

Glimmer makes half a dozen stars and a couple unicorns, lifting her head when Bow knocks and comes in a half second later.

“Oh! Are we making origami? I know how to make dragons!”

He sits down, selecting a dark green piece of paper and starts constructing a curving, sharp cornered dragon shape.

“This was my dads’ favorite little non-book related hobbies. I know how to make basically everything but dragons are my favorite. And pirate ships, I guess.”

\---

Adora is half way through her second attempt at a unicorn when Bow joins them. 

“Bow! Look at what I’ve made!” Adora says, happily turning to grab the completed stars when the techmaster says the magic word.

_Dragon._

Adora’s head turns so fast to face Bow again it's a wonder she didn’t give herself whiplash. Her eyes are comically wide as she forgets her half-made unicorn in favor of this new most noble pursuit. 

“ _Show me_.”

\---

Adora’s raw excitement lights Bow up completely, and he pulls the green piece of paper over to her to explain the steps. 

Glimmer watches, her smile turning bitter sweet.

_...is this….the last time we get to have this..?_

Were all things normal and peaceful, Adora getting married would be _exciting_ but...perhaps also scary. Glimmer knows that on some level she’s worried Adora will fall in love and forget them. 

It seems _unlikely --_ Catra had proven how devastatingly cruel she could be. And though she had gleaned that Adora had grown up with Catra...she doubted there was anything _really_ there…

_Right?_

Adora had lost weight in just the two weeks since the letter first came. Perhaps it was the threat of assassination, the threat of double crossing. Or maybe just the idea of being saddled with _her._

_...right?_

“And then you curve these last pieces so the horns point in! Yeah, you got it! Look at that! Oooh, we should try making one from this fish scale texture paper next, that would look so cool!”

\---

Adora _beams_ at the idea and immediately grabs some of the paper in question. This is the happiest she’d been since she’d opened that letter... maybe even since she’d heard the report that Catra had... 

She was _happy_ and that's all that mattered. It was so easy to forget what today was, what was meant to happen in only a few hours' time, as she focused on those lines. Replaying Bow’s instructions in her mind as she bent the paper to her will. The end result was a beautiful scaled Dragon that Adora instantly knew she’d want to keep in the same jar with those stars. Protected and cherished. 

Laughter filled the room as a knock interrupted them.

Juliet opened the door a moment later, head bowed.

“Queen Glimmer -- the Brightmoon guards have spotted an approaching party presenting Horde flags. Lord Prime has arrived…”

\---

The joy evaporates from the room, and Glimmer -- _desperate_ to hang onto just a shred of this moment, holds up a hand to Adora in a _stay there_ gesture before blinking away.

Half a moment later she returns with two jars -- one, her own, filled to the brim with stars -- and another, empty one.

“H-here,” she whispers, kneeling down on the ground and opening her jar to pour in about half of her stars. “...put yours on top. This is yours now…”

Carefully, Bow and Glimmer help Adora to place the unicorns, the dragons, and the stars they made into the jar for Adora.

Bow stands, glancing at the dress before he gets ready to leave -- but not before carefully wrapping Adora in a big hug. 

“Right by your side, Adora. Always and forever.”

\---

Adora’s eyes shine as Glimmer returns with those two jars. She knows they don't have much time to waste but... they can make time for this. 

She smiles as the jar fills up, and she realises she couldn’t think of a more proper display of their friendship save for maybe Bow’s tiny figures of the three of them.

The hug she gives Bow is tight and she doesn’t bother trying to hide how she tucks her head into his chest. He gives some of the best hugs and his scent of leather and spice with just a hint of oil reminds her of home. Maybe it's weird, but she takes a deep breath all the same and when she lets go her mask is on once more. 

The smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, the circles and signs of exhaustion are there -- but she’ll remember this moment for the rest of her life.

“I know. Thank you so much Bow.”

It's _selfish_. She knows it is, but before she can second guess herself she pulls him in for one more, far briefer, hug.

“Go tell the others its time? And that… I’ll see them at the ball.”

With that, Adora turns to look at her dress and waits for Glimmer to help her get ready.

\---

When Adora comes back for another hug, the tears already gathering in his eyes fall. And he squeezes her tightly.

He gives a small nod to Glimmer -- almost looking for _permission_ to leave Adora like this.

She gives her own nod before the door shuts. Glimmer inhales deeply, gently pulling the dress from the rack, to hand to Adora before blinking away to gather a few things. She doesn’t leave Adora for longer than a few seconds though, arranging a few bottles on a table while offering Adora the privacy to change behind the screen.

\---

The dress feels _heavier_ than it did when she wore it all those years ago to princess prom. The fabric is still silky and it smells clean, but it no longer fits quite as well. Her shoulders have grown larger, her arms more defined, but her torso doesn’t fill the space as well as it once did. Adora knew she had lost weight, but putting this dress on forces her to realize how _much_ she’s actually lost.

She sighs, straightens the dress out as best she can, and moves back around the screen to Glimmer.

“Can you zip me up?”

\---

Glimmer comes over, holding two small jars and setting them on a small table.

She’s not about to comment on the lost weight...but --

“Your arms look incredible in this dress. It’s amazing how much muscle tone you’ve put on in just a few years…”

Gentle hands situate onto Adora’s lower back to grasp the zipper and pull up, and she smoothes out the material from the back and straightens it gently.

“...Alright. So, I brought some lavender oil for you to wear like perfume. I know you like it on your pillow so...I’m hoping wearing it will help keep you calm. Or at least remembering to breathe deep.”

She dots the oil into her hands gently, touching Adora’s neck, then her wrists gently to apply it like perfume without any of the overwhelming fragrances she knows Adora can find _upsetting_ to wear. 

\---

Adora stands so _still_ as Glimmer helps her with her dress. She can already feel her chest growing tight, her stomach twisting uneasily. It is a good thing she hasn’t eaten breakfast -- she’s sure it would be coming up right now if she had. 

Glimmer’s thoughtfulness nearly undoes her carefully constructed mask. The Lavender oil on her pillow had been the Queen’s idea years ago when she’d learned Adora often struggled to relax enough to sleep. A bit of oil on her pillow had been just the thing to help remind her that her room was _safe_ , even after waking up from a nightmare. 

The scent fills her lungs as a Glimmer gently dabs some to each side of her neck -- and when Glimmer starts to pull away from applying it to her wrists Adora reaches out to take that hand. 

“Glimmer! Wait I…” Adora takes a deep breath and interlocks their fingers, “I just... wanted to thank you. For everything.”

\---

Glimmer had been in the mental process of thinking about closing up the oil bottle and preparing for the _next_ thing when those hands catch hers. And tears fill her eyes.

Adora, ever the strong, selfless Adora...ever self denying...was finally breaking. An extra hug from Bow and now…

She squeezes those fingers in her own and wraps her arms around Adora gently. 

What she’s saying...sounds so much like _goodbye_ that Glimmer’s heart twists. 

“D-don’t say it like that…” she whispers, her voice broken with her own tears. “We’re gonna get through this, Adora...everything is gonna be okay. I’m not going to let them do _anything_ to you.”

Her chest shudders, feeling a deep grief and rage in her own chest that she will have to watch nearly _powerlessly_ as this happens. With no idea what _scheme_ those monsters have planned for them. But she won’t let them hurt Adora. No matter what the cost.

She takes a few moments to stead herself as she pulls back, wiping her eyes before reaching for the other jar.

Another deep inhale. Those shoulders gently square and she looks up into those reddened blue eyes.

“...This is crystal dust,” she says, her lips curving into a smile. “I know we talked about makeup before but...this is more traditional than that and you won’t feel it on your skin.”

She takes a small pinch of it into her palm, dotting her pinky with it to trace a line gently over Adora’s right cheek. 

“...it’ll make you glow under the lights, and it’ll last a few days too. And...it’s traditional for Brightmoon princesses to wear this for engagement and wedding events. I know you’re not _technically_ a Brightmoon princess but...who cares. I say you are.”

She smoothes it over over that right cheek.

“Over the right cheek, for wisdom,” she whisper softly, reapplying it to her pinky. “...the left cheek for courage.”

Once more -- to smooth just above and between those brows.

“...the forehead, for clarity.”

Then -- carefully, Glimmer takes Adora’s finger into the dust.

“...Over the heart, for love,” she whispers, encouraging Adora to apply that one herself...if she wishes.

\---

Her lower lip quivers as she tries to remember to breath while Glimmer applies the crystal dust. Glimmer is right, it's so light she doesn’t feel it at all, but the magic _sings_ in a way she’s not sure Glimmer hears. The song's humming is beautiful and as she brings her pinky up to her heart, she does not dare look away.

She isn’t sure Glimmer will understand, or even approve -- but deep down Adora wants this to work. She wants Catra away from Prime and Shadow Weaver... and maybe... with the help of this crystal dust.... Catra will want to stay. Maybe even... to love.

That pinky crosses over her heart, and though no words are spoken the action speaks volumes. 

For a moment there is silence before Adora speaks up, daring to ask a question.

“Glimmer...is this crystal dust…water proof?”

\---

“...yeah. it would be pretty useless otherwise, huh,” Glimmer whispers, sniffling softly. 

She notices that Adora does take her up on the crystal dust over the heart. And...it makes her pause.

It’s not an expression of disapproval...just... _curiosity._

“H-here. Sit down? I’m gonna...do your hair. Tradition says generous dust in the hair for good luck.”

She gestures gently to a nearby chair, prepping the small hair pin as well as a few bobby pins and her brush. 

“...it looks really good on you already, Adora...you’re gonna look so gorgeous under all those lights.”

\---

“Good… I’m glad because… I’m trying really hard not to cry right now and I was worried if I did it would all wash off and... I don't…” Adora’s voice catches in her throat, tears she’d worked so _hard_ to keep at bay falling freely, “I don’t know how I -- deserved to be a princess of Brightmoon… I don’t know how I deserved to be your friend... but I’m so greatful Glimmer…”

Adora _knows_ they don’t have time for this. That carriage had to be pretty close to be spotted through the Whispering Woods -- so she moves to that chair and takes a seat. She’s exhausted already, and the mix of happiness and love she feels is soured by the overwhelming fear and apprehension she has towards this ball. 

How is she supposed to keep it together when her best friends keep managing to obliterate her walls?

\---

Glimmer wraps her arms around Adora from behind, holding her _so_ close. 

“Yeah, it doesn’t come off for _anything._ I accidentally got into some as a kid and. Poor Mom spent days trying to scrub it off me. She finally just had to wait for it to naturally fade. You’re gonna look radiant no matter what.”

She lingers for a moment before carefully and gently brushing soft blond hair back, making sure not to pin it too tight to avoid hurting Adora’s scalp. She sprinkles some dust and brushes it through, producing a shine surpassed only by She-Ra’s unearthly radiance. 

She finishes pinning Adora’s hair in place.

And then….an honest... _selfish_ question.

“...is...is there something more with Catra? You...never talked much about her…do...do you love her, Adora?”

\---

Her chuckle is genuine, the image of a younger Glimmer coated from head to toe in crystal dust and well… _glimmering_ is adorable enough on its own, but the thought of Queen Angella trying valiantly to scrub a squirming Glimmer free of it comes so naturally to her mind’s eye that she can practically hear Angella’s voice.

_Glimmah! You must hold still!_

_But Moooom!_

It isn't the first time Adora wishes she had maybe grown up here, in Brightmoon, instead of in the Horde... but every time the thought comes to mind she remembers Catra and... the desire fades.

Glimmer’s question isn’t surprising, but that doesn’t make answering it any easier. 

“She was... my best friend. Before I knew what best friends were. Before you and Bow… I had Catra. She had my back and I had hers. It… didn’t matter what they did to us... as long as we had each other.”

Adora closes her eyes, remembering the promise she made to Catra all those years ago. She hadn’t been able to keep it in the end... but maybe now she could at least... try.

“I’m not sure if... I know what that sort of love feels like. I love you and I love Bow... but I love Catra in a different way I just... don’t know if it's a love that’s meant for... this.”

\---

Glimmer hugs Adora a second time from behind when she explains, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. 

“...I get it,” she whispers softly, _affirmingly._ “...I always did wonder why battles with her seemed...personal. And like you both were following rules. Like neither of you wanted to _really_ kill each other. Just...win.”

Glimmer takes a deep breath, squeezing one last time before she slowly pulls back, straightening her own appearance. 

“...I don’t think we can stall any longer,” she whispers, bending down to pick up the small box containing Adora’s buckle to hand to her. “...whatever happens, we’re right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i **promise** the next chapter they meet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings for this chapter, except that you will want to, in the words of the Princess Frosta of the Kingdom of Snows-- "Punch. Horde. Prime."

They’ve already caused an incident and they’ve barely been in the castle for a  _ minute. _

Lord Prime was  _ only _ supposed to bring two guards, himself, and Catra. Yet...instead...he’s arrived with a group nearly 20 strong. Between the guards, Shadow Weaver, and Lord Prime himself...Catra can barely see out from beyond them.

The castle  _ gleams _ and it’s bright for her, too bright. Shadow Weaver’s magic has left her with a terrible headache, and with her hair slicked flat to her skull with only a slight wave at the top, there is no shade or relief for those sensitive, tired eyes.

Likewise, the  _ noise _ is deafening, the arguments between the Brightmoon guard and Prime’s insistence that such an issue be taken to the queen and that he considers it rather  _ insulting _ that he’s been kept waiting in some foyer like some  _ merchant _ and not the emperor he is. 

She doesn’t care. It doesn’t  _ matter. _

Frantically, her nose twitches. 

She smells about a hundred different people. The smell of a plethora of foods and drink, the smell of polish for the marble they’re standing on. 

Still that tender nose  _ searches, _ desperately, nostrils flaring and releasing. 

She holds the little box, with flowers and a red ribbon to her chest, wishing,  _ desperately,  _ that the carved dragon was  _ real, _ would come out and just force everyone to move  _ away _ from her. It’s hard to think. It’s hard to breathe.

She’s going to see Adora soon. She’s going to see those eyes, the fury, the  _ contempt. _

“This place is disgusting,” she hears Prime whisper to Shadow Weaver while they wait to be brought into the main hall. “...it’s like there’s a shroud around my magic. I’ve felt it since that filthy town...Thaymor? Remind me to torch the place myself on the way home.”

For a brief moment...Catra’s panic stills. Despite the jostle of the Horde guards beside her, she feels something  _ brush _ against her but -- when she looks down...there is  _ nothing. _

Just an odd sense of...peace?

It vanishes, however, when the doors to the large hall open and she’s jostled in.

\---

Glimmer blinks them both to the ballroom. It’s easier and faster then walking and Adora is grateful for it because she isn’t sure she can handle all the looks she’d get if she had to walk past well…  _ everyone. _

She can hear the commotion outside the ballroom even over the soft music playing, and Glimmer apologetically blinks away in order to find out what the meaning of it all is.

Alone, Adora takes in the room and notes a mingling of servants waiting to begin serving food and a scattering of the other princesses already in attendance. Frosta had arrived just the evening before, her kingdom the furthest away and the most difficult to find proper coverage for, due to its size -- but her presence meant the full alliance was in attendance for this event. 

Even Entrapta. The “Geek Princess” had inexplicably shown up at a Brightmoon teleporter shortly before Prime’s return to the Horde. Apparently she was  _ supposed _ to be sent to Beast Island (a fate worse than death if you asked Adora) but at the last minute  _ something _ changed the coordinates and Entrapta had ended up in Brightmoon. 

They had  _ tried _ holding her prisoner -- but quickly abandoned the idea as she continued to escape. Adora wasn’t quite sure how she’d gone from prisoner to a member of the alliance again, but the fact that she was  _ capable _ of doing so gave her the slightest bit of hope that maybe… it could happen again.

A quick glance around the room revealed Mermista and Sea Hawk seated with Perfuma, Netossa and Spinnerella speaking with Frosta, and Entrapta off speaking into a recorder as she studied the cake the Chefs had made for the occasion. 

Try as she might, Adora could not spot Bow and her growing unease was only calmed as she assured herself that he, too, was going to deal with whatever disturbance was out in the hall.

She studied the gift in her hands, its paper perfectly wrapped thanks to Glimmer’s practice hand. If one kiss gave it luck -- then perhaps a second was needed. No sooner had her lips brushed the ribben did the trumpets begin to sound, startling her into attention as Glimmer and Bow teleported in besides her. 

“Adora!” The two of them began, seeming  _ concerned  _ about something - but before either had a chance to explain the voice of Juliet rang clear throughout the room.

“Now Presenting, Emperor of the Horde, Lord Prime.”

\---

The room is  _ silent. _

The corners of his lips pull into a small smile as the emperor stares across the hall. The decorations are beautiful, made to look like a true engagement ball. How... _ quaint. _

He enjoys the dead silence, the feeling of a hundred eyes locked on his form while he stands, hands gently clasped behind his back, and begins to walk forward.

“You were told only to bring four people --” Glimmer begins, standing straight and tall despite being  _ massively _ dwarfed approaching the emperor himself.

“Ah, yes of  _ course, _ but I could not travel  _ alone. _ And Shadow Weaver has raised both of the beautiful brides to be, you  _ cannot _ imagine that I would tell their own mother to remain in  _ our _ kingdom while her lovely daughters wed, could you?”

Glimmer’s back straightens further, doing her best impression of her  _ mother _ despite the small, noticeable tremor in her shoulders. 

“Fine. She may stay for the ball. But the rest of the guard staff --”

“You’ll forgive me, my queen, but they are so very tired...you would not make them walk  _ all _ the way back home when they have just arrived…?”

It’s a trap. And she knows it. He can tell by the way those eyes fall slightly, the crease of that brow. Brightmoon insists the Horde treats its soldiers  _ poorly, _ and to force them to march the long distance home would be  _ cruel _ without a meal. Without  _ any _ type of comfort.

And while Glimmer concedes this...Prime’s eyes fall on Adora, the corner of his lips lifting  _ further. _

“...Very well. They may spend the night -- and in the morning, they will return home.”

Glimmer takes a deep breath before nodding gently to the small string quartet who had stopped playing to  _ continue, _ making her way back to Adora, to stand  _ close. _

\---

She felt so many eyes turn to her all at once it was almost painful. The moment Glimmer made her decree that the Horde Soldiers may stay the night, the  _ second _ the quartet started back up -- those eyes moved on to her and the whispers began.

“ _ Shadow Weaver?” _

_ “I didn’t know she was raised by  _ her.”

Adora sucked in a deep breath, refusing to close her eyes. Refusing to look  _ weak. _

_ “How can we trust her if she was raised by that witch? Was she pretending all along?” _

_ “I never trusted her. How could I? She was a Force Captain.” _

She ignored Bow and Glimmer, knowing both of them heard the whispers too and sought to offer her comfort but she could. Not. look. Weak. 

Those blue eyes look to Lord Prime and then pass over him, something she is sure would cause her a severe punishment if she was still his soldier-- but she seeks out the women he spoke of; Shadow Weaver and, most importantly, Catra.

She spies the first almost immediately, standing just a few feet behind him, adorned in red while the soldiers around him are clad in white. The magic in the air plays a sour note she is all too familiar with and it takes every ounce of self control not to snap into attention.

Of  _ course _ Shadow Weaver would come. She should have known that Catra would have been forced to endure endless days of travel with the woman just so she could crash their... their ball. Hot anger ignites in her belly and she takes a step forward without thinking.

She intends to find her fiance.

\---

From the moment they walked into the main hall, Shadow Weaver has kept an invisible line of magic connected from her fingers to Catra’s collar, enough magic coursing between that connection to keep Catra still and quiet.

It burns at her throat, but she knows the penalty for pushing that boundary. 

Her ears stay focused on Prime while he speaks. Then to Sparkles. 

_ How she misses those days. She enjoyed sparring with the Brightmoon princess, though she’s certain she would have never seen it the same way.  _

Her eyes squeeze shut when Prime  _ worms _ his way into forcing is entourage into the court and spending the night. 

But there...still hidden behind the other guards and Shadow Weaver--that scent catches on Catra’s nose. For the first time in  _ so _ long.

Those eyes open. And she finds a gap wide enough between the bodies surrounding her to glimpse  _ her. _

That face is set in stone, brows low and blue eyes  _ sharp _ with fury. 

“Is it time to exchange engagement gifts, Adora?” comes Prime’s voice, and the thought of it brings a surge of nerves through Catra’s miserable body, and, without meaning to, her claws scratch the delicate ribbon around the box she’s clutching to her chest.

Her ears pin back, swallowing on her own mistake. 

_ Typical. _

“Why your Catra has picked something  _ delightful _ out for you. She paid  _ quite _ the price for it, too.”

The guards still stand between her and Adora, and somehow -- with that rage -- Catra finds herself almost grateful to be behind them now.

\---

Prime’s magic radiates such a  _ loud _ sound, it hurts her ears in combination with the out-of-tune note of Shadow Weaver’s magic. It’s almost too much, but she ignores it, practically ignoring Prime himself save for the simple fact that he is blocking her way to Catra. 

“Emperor Prime,” Adora uses, knowing full well that while the title is correct, the man before her prefers the title of  _ lord,  _ “I appreciate the fact that you have traveled far to get here, and that you have spent many days on the road -- but I have spent weeks waiting to see my intended and you are not her. Please, enjoy the refreshments and the music -- but any further discourse on the subject of treaties will wait until  _ after _ the celebrations. I am sure you understand.”

She smiles sweetly up at him, her poker face born and forged from years in his army and empowered by a combination of  _ rage _ and the power of her friends on her side. 

That Crystal dust shines brighter than his travel worn and dusty soldier’s blouses pale in comparison to her radiance. 

Somewhere behind her, she hears a sharp inhale and she  _ knows _ she is playing with fire but Prime had already committed the first faux pas in  _ intentionally _ bringing more soldiers then allowed. If he was going to push, she would push back.

“I am also excited to give her my gift, so if you don’t mind…?”

\---

Prime can hear that heartbeat in his head, a side effect of the connection spell that allows him control. And while it is  _ tempting _ to take her over now -- it is also true that Catra has been...showing some signs she may be able to develop a  _ resistance _ to such magic if it is repeatedly used. The most important use of it  _ will _ be the wedding night.

And...on top of that, without even meaning to...Adora has caused that heartbeat to  _ soar.  _ Perhaps in a less than pleasant way.

He smiles. Broadly. With a snap of his fingers the guard disperse.

So close, he can feel the surge of panic when the natural camouflage leaves her. The way she  _ wants _ to move back and into the crowd but cannot. And, when Shadow Weaver steps aside, he gestures to her.

She looks  _ small-- _ thinned from months in Shadow Weaver’s  _ tender  _ care, but the loss of her mane shrinks her silhouette quite significantly. It’s slicked back to her skull completely, those ears folded back and slitted eyes wide. A small, silver band tucks just below the high collar of a tight, black and red gown, fit over top by a small, sheer cape. Clasped in bare hands, a small box. 

The crowd goes silent once again. Typically the exchange of gifts is a  _ sweet, _ tender ritual, done in public for the benefit of witnesses and family...but the tension is thick in the air. 

“Go on then, Catra. My understanding is the  _ lesser _ ranked must present her gift first, so, little sister --  _ go on.” _

\---

Adora stands immobilized as her eyes  _ finally _ lock onto those ears -- that face…

_ What have they done to you… _

Catra has been cleaned up, that much is obvious, but Adora  _ knows _ her and she is... unwell. That mane slicked back and hacked off feels almost like a physical blow. She knows how much it meant to Catra.

The dress she wears is nice to look at -- but something clearly forced onto her. The Catra she knows would  _ never _ wear something like that, and for that fact alone Adora dislikes it. She does what she can to keep her face schooled -- to smile -- but it comes across forced.

She hates that there are so many eyes on them, that so many people are waiting to  _ judge. _

A deep breath in and scent of lavender calms her, just a fraction. She’ll need to thank Glimmer again after this… but Catra is  _ here _ now and she is so  _ thin. _

The Princess of Power’s mind is adrift with worry, her thoughts jumbling together and threatening to overwhelm her. She should say something. Anything -- but her mouth is so dry and she can’t manage a word.

\---

She knows Adora’s schooled expression. She knows where it fails.

She sees the horror on that face. The disgust. The way those eyes drift down her form. The subtle,  _ tiny _ sneer of disdain.

Her jaw sets when Horde Prime decides she’s been  _ still _ for too long, sending a small little  _ thump _ of magic through her collar. 

She takes a few steps closer, her gait smooth and graceful. They had offered her something for the pain, something to make her look less pathetic during the ball and Catra had taken them up on it. Much as she would have liked to refuse...the idea of looking so utterly pathetic in front of Adora was the greater humiliation.

Her lips pull into a smile, one that barely pulls up at all. 

“...hello, Adora,” she says softly. 

The smile falls, along with her eyes and ears, and she holds out the small box, unsure of what to say or how to present it. For a moment she wonders if Prime won’t just kick the back of her knees to force her  _ down. _

Perhaps he elects not to.

The ribbon is half torn, a fact that makes Catra’s ears pin further back.

\---

Her heart beats faster as Catra approaches, that voice she... thought was gone forever. It snaps her back to her senses and she offers a genuine smile just as those eyes look down.

“Catra,” She whispers, a moment just between them. A slow blink. “I’m… glad to see you.”

She takes the small box with one hand, and offers her own box in return, making a point to just… briefly brush their fingers. She’s  _ missed _ Catra and that brief touch is electrifying. It makes Shadow Weaver and Prime’s presence almost worth it. 

“I don’t really... believe in all this  _ ranked _ business… would you want to open them together? Maybe… at the count of three?”

\---

The softer voice...is a surprise, and Catra’s eyes... _ slowly _ lift.

They’re a few paces now from Prime -- she can feel him moving back. She’s so focused on his movement that the brush of those fingers against her own makes her flinch back  _ briefly _ before she comes back into the present.

_ I’m glad to see you. _

She wants to say something but Adora is offering her own box.

It didn’t even occur to her. It didn’t occur to her that there would be something given to  _ her. _

She reaches to take it, sliding her thumb across the dark red wrapping paper. She stops herself from the intense instinct to sniff, instead letting herself gaze back into those eyes. 

Her own gaze becomes somewhat unguarded, the panic loosening in favor of something else. She can see herself in those eyes, the same exhaustion. And...maybe? 

The same...longing?

She returns the slow blink.

“...alright,” she whispers, only for Adora’s ears. “...on three, then.”

\---

The smile she gives Catra when that slow blink is  _ returned _ is... so warm. A lopsided grin and lidded eyes -- relief that at least  _ this  _ remained an unspoken comment between them. 

Prime’s  _ loudness _ eases, a softer note reminiscent of a gentle rumble filling Adora’s ears and her next breath comes surprisingly easy. Like the miasma of tension suddenly clears and everything becomes sharper, more real. 

She sighs, and for a moment allows herself to be  _ excited _ . 

“On three....” She affirms and then, “One... Two... Three…”

She pulls the ribbon of her box free, unwilling to risk damaging the gift inside. Removing the lid her eyes go wide. A soft gasp leaving her.

\---

She doesn’t understand why Adora’s expression is soft. Encouraging.  _ Warm. _

But when the tension in her collar eases somewhat -- when there’s a brief sense of peace like there was in front of the doors...she chooses not to question it. She chooses to accept the lopsided grin. 

She waits till three, gently sliding a claw beneath the wrapping to slide off the binding rather than cut it. And inside…

Tears spring to her eyes, and she reaches in, gently cradling the small wing buckle in her palm.

A moment later, she pulls it tightly to her chest, holding it as though she’s afraid if she opens her eyes it’ll be gone. 

But...slowly -- her eyes  _ do _ open, when she hears a gasp, those ears gently swiveling forward to see Adora’s expression. To see her  _ see _ it.

\---

A  _ Dragon _ .

Bow and Glimmer didn’t even know her love for the creatures until earlier today… so that Catra remembered from all those years ago when they were small children... 

And the  _ colors _ ... 

“Its… perfect,” Adora whispers, just for Catra. Just so she  _ knows _ without a shadow of a doubt that Adora approves. 

Without missing a beat she slowly reaches in and removes the bangle when she stops just short of putting it on. She holds it in her hand, allowing herself another beat to admire it before looking back to Catra. To those unshed tears. 

“Let me help you with that… and you can help me with this?” Adora asks, hopeful but… unsure. Not demanding. Not  _ forcing. _

\---

The tip of Catra’s tail  _ curls _ slightly against her calf, a small sign of delight at Adora’s soft words. And the tears flow freely. 

Shyly -- carefully -- Catra hands the small buckle back, taking the cape held with a small Horde pin and carefully threading it out. There’s a moment, where she looks into Adora’s eyes...those beautiful, blue eyes, and it’s enough for her to let the pin fall on the ground.

She prays the symbology isn’t lost on Adora, as she offers the two loose ends of the cape to Adora to refasten with her  _ own  _ marker.

She reaches for the bangle, the first time she’s touched it, while entering a space  _ closer _ than they were in before. She can feel Adora’s breath paint her face, her tail curling now in the opposite direction at the way it sends shivers down her spine. 

Her thumb brushes against the soft of Adora’s wrist as she carefully latches it there.

With that hand lifted..in a moment of  _ pure _ selfishness, she brings it to her own cheek and closes her eyes.

\---

There is a moment of pure  _ joy, _ as that Horde emblem falls to the ground. A crash that she knows the entire room couldn’t  _ possibly _ hear and yet the sound is so incredibly loud. Her smile suggests that she understands. 

That buckle in hand she is so incredibly careful to fasten it in such a way that looks nice-- looks fitting of a princess consort. She won't be the cause of some fault Prime or Shadow Weaver will inevitably find and blame Catra for. She knows that world -- knows there is no way they kept their promise not to hurt her and all Adora can hope for is she was treated  _ better _ \-- even if only minutely. 

And then, it is Catra’s turn to mark  _ her. _ To fasten that bangle onto her wrist and the moment feels  _ right _ . 

Her breath catches as her hand is brought up to brush against that Cheek. As those eyes close. She can feel the wetness of tears and  _ fuck it. _

Adora brings her forehead forward, brushing against that short slicked back mane, and closes her eyes as well. Trusting. 

\---

Her hand lifts -- the one not holding Adora’s to her cheek -- to rest softly on the soft curve between Adora’s neck and shoulder. She rubs her cheek against that hand slightly, clearly holding back from  _ more. _

“...you sure this isn’t a dream?” she asks, her voice soft. Almost  _ pleading. _ “...nevermind. Don’t tell me if it is. I don’t want to wake up.”

Her head falls slightly, to tuck beneath that chin and rest against that neck, as though all Catra wants in that moment is to be hidden inside Adora. 

There’s something raspy and unrecognizable interrupting her breathing, something old and broken and  _ trying _ to sound like a purr but failing at the proper cadence. 

“...if the stars are  _ finally _ giving me a good dream, don’t let me wake up.”

\---

She had been keeping it together as well as she could, her emotions in check as she slowly allowed more and more of herself to come back -- to come out from a slumber so long it felt eternal, but then she hears it. 

It is small and broken but -- still good. Still recognizable and the dam Adora had built inside her breaks. Tears rushing forth and dripping down onto what remains of that mane.

“With Shadow Weaver so close?” Adora comments, a soft quip, “You have to be awake -- nightmares are what she’s best at.”

Stars how she missed this. Glimmer had asked her if she loved Catra and the truth was -- she didn’t know. But this moment felt more  _ right _ than anything else had in such a long time that... even if it wasn’t  _ love _ Adora thinks she could live happily with it.

\---

“...she gave me a terrible one last night,” Catra admits, scooting closer and letting her chest press to Adora’s. How she wishes she could just melt into her...

She can smell the tears and it brings her own, but the desire to do something about Adora’s pain causes her to withdraw slightly -- enough to lift her hand to gently wipe the tears from those cheeks. 

She manages a small smile to Adora, taking the hand bearing the bangle to bring to her lips, letting them brush against those scarred knuckles gently before her gaze falls to the refreshment table. 

Her purr fails again, some old lingering cough deep in her throat interrupting it. 

“...are we supposed to...stay in the middle of the room or...are we allowed to drink?”

\---

“I had a bad dream too…” Adora admits, her free arm coming up to press gently into the small of Catra’s back. Not to pin her down, never to do that but to simply offer more of a buffer between Catra and the  _ evil _ that stands behind her. 

She picks up the sound of that cough, how that voice is  _ dry _ and something in her causes her to look up and over at Prime. Her eyes intense as she stares at him, a forced smile on her face so as not to be the reason for any disagreement.

“Of course we can get you a drink. There’s a cake meant for us later -- we do have so much to catch up on. Please, excuse us.”

Adora doesn’t allow Prime or Glimmer or  _ anyone _ to respond, an arm wrapping around Catra’s waist and keeping her tucked close to her side as she leads them away from the center of the room. From prying eyes. From Prime and Shadow Weaver and those Horde soldiers -- and to the refreshment table.

A startled server springs into action as Adora locks eyes with him and within a few moments a cool drink is in Adora’s free hand.

Without a second thought, Adora takes a sip. Proof it isn’t poison for Catra’s benefit, and then offers the beverage to her.

\---

Adora’s protectiveness, where once had  _ annoyed  _ her, had truly only annoyed her as it ignored her own agency. But here...and now...Catra has _ none. _ And Adora’s protectiveness is desperately welcome.

For the first time in  _ so _ long, another is looking out for her. That strong arm around her waist helps ground her.

But when Adora sips the cool drink -- a desire to show Catra it’s safe, the fear comes crashing back.

She takes the drink offered in a smooth motion, and moves to rest her head on that shoulder.

“...It….it’s a trap, Adora,” she whispers. How she wishes she could stay in this bliss for  _ longer, _ to pretend they were really going to get married and all they had to deal with were disgruntled folks. Not... _ this. _

“...h-he wants you dead,” she whispers, her voice so soft. she tugs slightly at the high collar of her dress, to show the solid silver ring around her throat. “...please, you can’t...go through with this…”

\---

Oh how she wishes they could just stay like this. Ignorant and bliss. Nothing will ever come easy for them, that is simply the lot they have been given as Catra grows somber, offers a desperate and pleading warning. A cry for  _ help _ , of not wanting to hurt anymore -- Adora feels her heart clench. 

“I know…” Adora whispers, reassuringly. Not upset. Not anger -- _ understanding, _ “There’s no way Prime would suddenly propose peace. Not when he’s so close. Not unless he’s afraid. I suspected he was after Glimmer but... an attempt on my life made the most sense.”

Adora sighs, and simply takes a cup to drink for herself, moving them around the ballroom at a leisurely pace so as not to be disturbed. To anyone else it just seemed like Adora was pointing out the decorations, and showing Catra around the grand hall. 

“Catra, he told me he kept you... specifically  _ for _ me. If I... if I refuse you…” Adora shakes her head in refusal, “I won't let that happen. There  _ has _ to be some way to get out of this with both of us alive. We just need time to think.”

\---

Catra feels a sudden jolt of magic surge through her collar when she exposes it slightly. Her gaze lifts -- seeing across the hall those four  _ piercing _ eyes watching her -- delivering a  _ warning. _

So...she goes quiet, draining her drink quickly from the desperate thirst, her attempt to  _ warn _ for now silencing in favor of just...existing.

“...I didn’t think it would... _ work _ though,” she confesses, when they get further away from Prime. Those eyes lift to the dangling lights, held from the ceiling by gossamer strings. “...I didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again…”

Her fingers trace down Adora’s arm, stroking the back of that hand around her waist and hopes it  _ never _ leaves. The golden bangle catches the light...just like -- well, just like  _ Adora _ does.

Those eyes come back home to that face, and she reaches up shyly, to look at the shine on those cheeks. Maybe...a result of being She-Ra?

“...you look...beautiful,” she compliments softly, that gaze falling back to the arm locked around her waist. “...your arms have really filled out since the last ball we went to.”

\---

A loud burst of magic causes Adora to wince, a moment of discomfort as she tries to identify what caused the outburst but ultimately returns her attention to Catra. Another drink is grabbed along the way by Adora, another sip to prove it is safe, and she hands it to Catra. She can tell by her voice that one is not enough.

“I... I believed you were dead,” Adora admits, her voice a bit  _ haunted _ , “I didn’t think I ever  _ would _ get to see you again and I... well... I was sad.”

She undersells just how devastated she was. Mentioning a grave out in the woods with Catra’s name on it feels wrong when they are both here together, alive and at a ball meant for their engagement. So she leaves that part out. The loss of appetite, the countless hours of tears... 

The compliment takes her by surprise, blue eyes meeting those multicolored irises as color rises to her cheeks.

“Y-yea… I’ve been working out I guess…” Adora laughs, awkwardly and stiff. She was never one to take compliments about her person well -- only her accomplishments.

Adora stops them both, turning herself to face Catra rather than to continue walking joined at the hip. 

“You... look…” she frowns. None of this is Catra. The dress is nice but it wasn’t something Catra  _ chose _ and complimenting it feels like approving Prime’s choises, “Here -- just... let me…”

A hand raises up, to touch that mane but stops. Waiting for permission. Asking softly if it was  _ okay _ before just... doing what she wants.

\---

She’s well used to her needs being  _ known -- _ both Prime and Shadow Weaver were highly sensitive to her thirst, her hunger, her  _ pain -- _ but it was all in service of  _ torture _ rather than care. She sets the empty glass down when she’s offered a new one after Adora takes another sip.

This time she doesn’t turn the glass so where Adora’s mouth touched it is  _ away _ from her own but rather -- when she goes to take a sip, Catra lets her lips brush where  _ hers _ were. 

A small, stolen intimacy.

Those ears swivel, when Adora turns to face her. She can see those eyes look her up and down, the frown on that face. She lifts a hand to her arm in a small gesture of self defensiveness. 

_...she never thought such a small thing would matter to her, but the thought of not being attractive to Adora nearly has her in tears. _

Adora reaches for her though, and Catra is reminded of when they were far smaller, when far softer, smaller hands would bury in her mane to play with it.

Her ears gently lope to the sides in offering, tipping her head forward.

A small grin creeps across her lips. A grin she hasn’t felt in...has it been years…?

“...Oh he’d  _ hate _ that. He’s been obsessive about it since Shadow Weaver brought me to him.”

Her tail flicks slightly, chewing on Adora’s words from earlier. 

“...after everything I did? You were still...sad?”

She remembers what she did. She remembers Adora’s frantic words about what would happen if they activated a spell that  _ immense. _ That calling the rest of the Horde would be  _ devastating _ .

And Catra had only smiled. 

_ That means we win and you _ **_lose._ **

“...Shadow Weaver...requested to keep me. Said I could be useful at some point. Turns out...I sort of have some innate magic that helped bolster her own. Except for Prime’s...brilliant idea, I probably would have spent the rest of my life in that cage.”

She looks down at her wrists. There’s a small illusion spell on her -- all of her -- to hide the scarring, the bruises. On her wrists, beneath the illusion, are faint, furless scars where shackles had bitten into her flesh, and subtle but splintering lines up her arms from where Shadow Weaver’s magic dug in deep to suck out that magic. 

“...it pissed her off. I can tell. She’s been against this idea from the start. But after her fall with Hordak and my...unfortunate punishment, she’s back in second command again. And this time she’s not making any mistakes.”

\---

That grin makes her breath catch when she spots it. Knowing that an action as simple as running her fingers through Catra’s hair will bring Prime such  _ displeasure _ is a reward all on its own. Long callused fingers close the small distance between them and that mane is so forced back with some sort of gel that Adora immediately sets about running it. 

Adora just... listens. She’s missed this. All of this. Running her hand through Catra’s mane. Catra’s purr. Her  _ voice _ . 

Those blue eyes don’t miss how Catra stares at something she can’t see -- something on her wrists she is sure Shadow Weaver has spelled away. 

Adora’s free hand moves to gently take one of Catra’s in her own, interlacing their fingers gently. 

“Of course I was sad Catra... We grew up together and you’ve been a part of my life for far longer than you weren’t. Shadow Weaver may have raised us... but after we are married she won't be a part of our lives anymore. She’ll  _ lose _ Catra. She lost me, and now she’ll lose you and both of them will wish they hadn’t given us this opportunity -- will wish they hadn’t brought us back together.”

That hand combing through that mane finally manages to undo whatever it was cementing those strands back -- setting them free in a way that reminds Adora of how Catra’s mane had always been as they grew up.

Wild and free. Unkempt but cared for.

“There... that's so much better..”

\---

The gel hurts when it’s pulled, but of all the kinds of pain Catra has suffered in the last several months, it is by far an extremely  _ tolerable _ pain, one that never registers on her face. She leans into that touch, her eyes going half lidded when Adora manages to loosen it, comb it out, and then let the strands  _ loose. _

One long strand falls in front of those eyes and those slitted pupils open a bit more, dilating when Adora talks of being  _ married, _ of Shadow Weaver and Prime  _ losing. _

It’s just too much. Too much hope…

She spares a glance for herself and closes her eyes, her fingers softly squeezing the ones laced in her own.

_ Her mane is long, but not pinned behind her mask. In an perverse nod to Adora’s clean tail, hers is pulled back without any semblance of order into a high ponytail. _

_ Her breasts are free beneath a soft, red silk blouse. High waisted slacks, perhaps? And boots to match. The effortless grace of a prince. _

She blinks up at Adora -- an intentional, soft  _ slow _ blink. 

A sudden pain lances through her throat -- unlike the last few jolts, this one is less of a warning and more  _ punishment.  _ She can’t hide the flinch, and with her claws hovering over Adora’s hands, without meaning to, her claws sink into that skin before she can pull them away.

Her fangs drive into her lip as the white hot pain holds for just a moment longer, reminding her of the final shake a cruel master might give while correcting his beast.

She moves back, holding her hands to her chest, half stumbling from the pain. Whatever good the medicine did before is gone, and her pain is back, no longer numbed.

She attempts to play it off, to angle her head gracefully, but her motion is uneasy and she’s trembling like a leaf. 

“Yup. He hates it,” she says, an attempt to play off the emperor’s thick and  _ punishing _ displeasure.

\----

She catches that slow blink and is half way through returning one of her own when the  _ loudness _ flares to life right in front of her and pain pricks at her joined hand. 

It feels so  _ wrong _ . They had been happy -- why does something have to ruin their moment? She takes her own step back and brings a hand to her head. A headache is forming and the wrong note of Shadow Weaver’s magic seems  _ pleased _ .

“They are hurting you…” Adora frowns. Her shoulders raise up and her chin lifts.  _ Anger _ is once again evident in her eyes. “How? I’ll put a stop to it.”

\---

She can feel his eyes  _ burning _ into her back. Her ears pin angrily and she sets her jaw, and in one small act of  _ defiance _ she runs her claws through her hair with a small glance back.

_ What are you going to do. Choke me to death in front of her? _

She wonders if Adora would kill him, laws be damned. It’s an encouraging thought.

The pain eases off and she knows there will be  _ plenty _ more punishment when she’s locked up for the night, but for now at least she takes her victory.

Adora is  _ furious, _ something that -- when she comes back to present, makes her heart thump gently. 

The tip of her tail curls again.

“...yeah,” she answers softly, angling her jaw up so Adora can see the solid silver band around her neck. Keen eyes might spot the scars on her skin just beneath. “...I doubt you can get it off though. It’s spelled on there and he’s not going to just take it off.”

Those ears suddenly drop when she sees Adora’s hand -- the four trails of  _ blood _ when she had started to shyly reach for it again. 

“...Fuck. I’m sorry…”

\---

Blue eyes glow with fury as her uninjured hand reaches up as if to tear that band of metal off that scarred neck. She stops just short of touching it, and instead that hand goes to caress one of Catra’s cheeks. 

“I’ll find a way to rid you of it. I’ll ask Glimmer or -- or Castaspella... maybe Razz would know…” She trails off, speaking to herself. Her mind whirling just like it always did when forming a battle plan.

The curse brings Adora back to the present, blinking as she focuses on Catra and notes how those ears have  _ dropped _ . She follows those eyes down to her other hand and distantly registers the blood.

“Oh..” Adora comments as she begins searching for something to wipe her hand off with. Finding none she lifts that hand to her lips. A pink tongue parting them to lap at the red liquid before it can drip further onto the floor.

\---

She’s seen those eyes glow. 

And Catra has seen She-Ra.

Fierce and powerful, a radiant form of Adora both unrecognizable and still so  _ her, _ past the long, unruly golden mane so opposite of the normal fiercely kept ponytail. She-Ra she most typically saw in battle, had known her wrath...had felt her strikes.

Admittedly, those strikes were measured -- Catra knew that but for a few months ago, Adora never wanted to strike to kill. Still...She-Ra made a  _ terrifying _ foe. 

She wonders if Adora will transform there, but it seems to only be those eyes -- a flash of divine rage, but unlike all the other times, it’s  _ for _ her, rather than  _ at  _ her. 

Tired eyes close, and Catra leans into that hand, fighting the desire to curl into those arms, to beg for salvation. 

_...perhaps, were Prime’s plan different, Catra might have begged sanctuary. Now it just seems...laughable.  _

She speaks of sorceresses, but Catra knows between Shadow Weaver and Prime himself...the magic will not be easily undone. 

Her fingers shyly slide back up -- worried and yet, she cannot resist the desire to  _ touch _ once more, to keep that hand against her cheek. And it is there, that she watches Adora lift her other hand to her lips, to suck clean the blood she drew.

A rush of warmth spreads down into Catra’s lower stomach at the sight, and her eyes  _ quickly _ avert. 

“...your eyes...do they always glow when you’re angry?” she asks, a desperate dodge in subject off of those lips...that tongue...

\---

Adora pauses mid lick, confusion evident on her face as she tilts her head to one side. She examines her hand, the blood no longer flowing but the marks still clearly there and wonders if she might have... accelerated her healing to some degree.

“Not usually -- but I can’t really see my own eyes so I’m not sure. Bow and Glimmer haven’t mentioned it if they do. I think it’s just -- something they do when I feel strongly about something? I’m not sure. Now I’m curious though so -- tell me if you see them glow some more?”

She smiles softly, oblivious to how her actions might have spurred  _ feelings _ in Catra. 

In that moment of silence -- Adora hears the music start to chance into something meant for dancing. Memories of the Princess Prom come rushing to her mind and she gently takes one of Catra’s hands in her own.

“May I have this dance?”

\---

Catra rests her flat palm in Adora’s when offered, those lungs pulling in a deep breath.

“...never really cared for the way they looked when you were She-Ra,” she confesses, sliding a hand down to Adora’s hip. “...then again that’s probably because I hated She-Ra.”

Her lips drag into a smile, and her tail curls a bit at the tip once more. 

“I mean come on. The hair  _ is _ ridiculous. Do you control it? Power fantasy or something?”

The old Catra, older than Adora’s defection, the Catra that teased Adora for being slow and whispered little insults about Shadow Weaver directly into Adora’s ear -- is here now, recovering from earlier nerves and just as sharp as ever. 

\---

Adora flushes, embarrassment or perhaps something more? It's hard to tell as she moves them out to the dance floor slowly. She doesn’t even bother to look and see if anyone else is joining them. This first slow dance is  _ theirs _ .

“Its  _ magic _ Catra,” she defends, “I can’t exactly control it like the sorcerers at Mystacor can... Razz says it's wild and old. Probably more similar to your magic then anything else -- so no. I don’t control the hair but... I will admit I like it.”

The music is slow and Adora takes the lead simply because she’s the one who suggested the activity. She’s practiced dancing off and on since Princess Prom -- not wanting to be caught off guard again -- but she keeps it simple. A sway together and gentle turns. One hand holding Catra’s and the other resting on her side just above her hip. 

\---

Those lips curl into a smile, one that exposes those sharp fangs. A laugh, one so genuine it breaks slightly -- just like it did before -- echoes from that throat.

“Well  _ my _ magic doesn’t make my eyes glowy,” she purrs brightly, sliding her hand up that side just a  _ little -- _ not unlike she did at the prom. “And of course you like the hair…”

She enjoys the swaying, but enjoys putting Adora on the defensive more. It’s so much like how it used to be…

“What about the tiara. It’s so tall, do you bump it on things? C’mon you  _ have _ to admit it’s ridiculous.”

\---

Adora rolls her eyes, just like she always used to when Catra got this way. It quietly amazes her how even after so long apart they can fall into sync so quickly. It's as easy as breathing and Adora hopes it never changes. Hopes that maybe it will stay this way forever.

“Have you seen the doors here at Brightmoon? They are built as if everyone walking through them are giants -- and I know well enough how to  _ duck _ .. At least.. Now I do.”

There’s a story there -- one she purposefully doesn’t share in hopes that Catra can learn about it in the future. A silly notion that if she gives Catra  _ everything _ right now that she will disappear. 

“I guess it is a bit much but -- it's not like I choose what I’m wearing as She-Ra. The Tiara comes with the package, and the sword is the only thing that seems changeable.”

\---

“...yeah that’s right. You caught me with a whip once, huh.”

Catra leans in a bit closer, feeling the firm muscle but...when her hand slips a bit, she can feel how  _ thin _ that stomach is. 

Her eyes drop gently.

“Did you break something?” she asks with a grin that brightens her eyes. “Please tell me you broke something.”

So close, Catra slides closer still, letting her tail gently wrap around Adora’s ankle. 

“...I suppose I could grow to like She-Ra,” she says softly, “...now that she’s not my mortal enemy. I  _ guess _ the hair isn’t  _ that _ dumb.”

\---

Those eyes close as that hand strokes her stomach, a heat pooling beneath where that hand stops as her face grows warm.

She knows she’s lost weight -- Catra’s lost more -- but the action feels intimate in a way that she hadn’t expected it to. 

“Y-yea? W-well I’m glad then. She-Ra and I are kind of a package deal, and I didn’t  _ break _ anything. At least nothing important. Look it was just one of their stupid dangly lantern things. No one even noticed.”

Adora shook her head as the music started to change to something faster. More couples had joined them on the dance floor and it was clear that this next piece would involve trading partners. The thought didn’t sit well with her -- but she smoothly began the practice motions of the dance as there was no way to gracefully  _ leave _ .

\---

Catra’s eyes brighten further, her tail flicking with  _ excitement. _

“Which one? I can’t believe you’ve done more damage to this castle than I ever had the chance to,” she  _ purrs, _ another happy little laugh escaping her lips. 

And keen as her eyes are, she fails to notice those cheeks grow pinker -- moreso because out of the corner of her eye...she sees Prime drawing closer. 

The more playful and open attitude she had adopted begins to falter, those ears flicking backwards and her tail returning to tucked against her own calf. 

She’s traded off to the right -- fortunately to some Brightmoon noble, and not -- as Adora is -- to Prime himself. 

She feels her blood run cold seeing him so close to her, finding herself distracted and that old streak of  _ possessiveness _ sparks to life inside her as she watches him extend a hand to her.

\---

Adora’s smile leaves her entirely as Catra’s warmth is taken away. So busy is she looking back that for a moment she fails to notice who her own dance partner is.

That blissful ignorance lasts only a few seconds, however, as Adora is forced to spin and the sight of Lord Prime hits her like a punch to the face.

Those blue eyes glow, glaring up at him. She forces a smile and a deep breath but her grip is a bit  _ firmer _ than it need be. Adora is surprised that this demon’s hands are warm at all and not as frigid as his personality.

“Emperor Prime, I hadn’t realized you’d joined.” 

\---

The Emperor wonders if Adora will transform then and there into She-Ra. The thought is as  _ amusing _ to him as it is intriguing. Those lips curve into a smile, when she takes his hand in a firm grip. 

“I can never resist a good dance, Highness,” he  _ purrs, _ moving with a confident, smooth grace. “Besides, I saw how well you and your fiance are getting on. That is fortunate, I know you had made such devastating foes to one another only a few months ago.”

He notes the vibrations coming from the collar, the way that heartbeat quickens. Two of those eyes lift to see Catra watching the two of them, wide eyed.

“You have done an  _ excellent _ job on such short notice,” he comments, looking up at the hung lights, the decoration. “Why, the way your Catra made it out, she thought this would all be wasted effort...I am glad she was  _ wanted _ after all.”

All four eyes focus on Adora.

\---

“ _ Catra _ and I have a lot of things we need to work on,” Adora admits tersely as she circles him, their hands joined as part of the dance.

She’ll need to take a shower to wash the feeling of slime off of herself after this. There is no way to miss how two of his eyes leave her to fall on Catra and she wishes nothing more than to hold his attention if it means it is kept off of  _ her. _

“All life is valuable, Emperor. That is something I learned after I left the Fright Zone. I will see to it that Catra is never made to endure anything even  _ remotely _ similar to what she has endured while Shadow Weaver’s prisoner.”

\---

It is simply... _ too easy. _

She’s attached. Miserably so. Already so protective and defensive. From the moment she saw Catra, Adora has shown no suspicion. 

He knew he was right of course. He had been right since the beginning. That Catra  _ lived _ at all was a testament that She-Ra did not  _ want _ to end her, not that Catra was particularly  _ hale. _ Still, it’s satisfying to be proved right.

“Yes,” the emperor admits, lifting his head to more  _ obviously _ look at Catra, “...her mother has been...terribly cruel to her.”

His head remains tilted, but all four eyes fall back to Adora’s face. 

“But she’s been enduring such things since you both were children. It was my understanding that she was punished rather  _ severely _ for her involvement in your desertion. You’ll forgive me for that, I was not, at the time  _ in _ the Fright Zone to prevent my little brother from allowing something so  _ cruel  _ as punishment for mere association with a traitor.”

\---

It takes every ounce of self control she has to stop herself from decking him right then and there. Shadow Weaver was never a mother. The fact that he keeps using the same term Glimmer reserved for Queen Angella makes her blood  _ boil _ . Shadow Weaver taught them things a mother should but that was the extent of her maternal instincts. 

Adora knows Catra was punished. She knows how terrible and heavy handed those punishments had to have been. At the time it was easier to pretend Catra managed to avoid them -- or that she had given Catra the chance to come with her and avoid the harsh treatments she was going to receive otherwise... That Catra had made her choice. 

It was Catra’s death and hours spent seated at her empty grave that allowed Adora time to reflect. To realize how much her own actions had hurt others. Others she cared for. 

Prime had  _ no right _ to bring it up here. To bring it up now. 

“And I am to believe the cruelty stopped once you arrived back? You told the world you were killing her and then hid her away until she was useful to you. I asked that provision she not be harmed be put in for a  _ reason _ , Emperor.”

\---

Lord Prime can feels those emotions bubbling just below the surface. The pain, the rage...perhaps, guilt in those eyes? 

“You would prefer she had been executed then, Adora?”

No more honorifics. And that smile grows as his voice lowers.

“...make no mistake,  _ princess, _ she lives at my whim. I offer you a chance at peace, a chance to marry one you  _ love, _ but should I feel  _ spurned,  _ that offer is  _ revocable. _ And your little...alliance is in no position to fight  _ back.” _

His dark stare softens back into a smile as he releases her hand, watching Catra be returned to her hands a moment later.

And while he steps back...he remains close.

A lesson, perhaps. For them  _ both, _ as he watches Catra fall into those arms somewhat aggressively.

\---

A chill seeps deep into Adora’s bones as she feels Catra’s body press against her own. Strong arms wrap around that smaller thinner frame protectively, keeping her body between Prime and the woman in her arms.

Adora doesn’t respond. She doesn’t need to. Her face has grown cold and stoney and she knows her temper has nearly cost them all  _ dearly _ . 

A forced smile is offered to him as she dips Catra low, the dance coming to an end with a flourish.

“I don’t feel like dancing anymore,” Adora whispers into Catra’s ear, using the dip as a means to hide their conversation, “Come with me to the gardens for some air?”

\---

Those eyes are  _ glowing, _ that face furious, when she goes back into those arms. She feels like apologizing, that it’s her fault somehow that Adora had to be that close to  _ him... _ but before she can process the words -- she’s deep in an embrace, those strong arms wrapped around her. And it’s enough to make her lose herself again...remembering months of longing for  _ just this... _ maybe...even years.

Suddenly she’s dipped, and instead of tensing up as Catra  _ would _ have expected her body to do, having her stomach stretched back, exposed, and her body held off balance, instead...she goes limp. 

Her stomach stretches, but she remains limp in that hold, biting her lip when that mouth brushes her ear.

Her arms wrap around that back and -- despite how  _ close _ Prime and Shadow Weaver are, Catra, for the first time in  _ years, _ feels safe.

“...Adora -- ” she whispers, squeezing a little  _ protest _ when she feels Adora start to pull  _ out _ of this pose. One hand slides to that cheek...and meeting Adora’s eyes, in a rare moment of  _ demanding, _ her gaze falls to those lips.

\---

The hand that holds Catra’s back remains firm as Adora’s second hand moves lower, catching the fabric of that dangerously high slit and holding it in place just above where Catra’s tail is pinned beneath. She won't allow  _ anyone _ to claim Catra’s outfit caused a scandal of some kind. Something she can easily see Prime or Shadow Weaver doing behind the scenes.

It surprises her when the woman in her arms goes  _ limp _ instead of rigid -- and that is enough to pull her attention away from that ear, back far enough to get a look at that face and  _ oh _ .

Catra’s hand on her cheek is so gentle and those bicolored eyes moving to gaze at her lips are so full of hunger that Adora can’t possibly resist. 

She tilts her head to the right, just slightly,  _ just _ enough so their noses won't crash together and maybe… maybe make it look like she knows what she’s doing when she has no idea.

Blue eyes blink slow and then close as she closes the distance between them, brushing their lips together.

\---

She’s admittedly...surprised, when Adora responds so naturally, and Catra feels her chest seize.

All this time...all this time, she...felt the same?

Tears well in her eyes as they slip closed, as she leans up, her chest arching against Adora’s, aware of the attempt to keep her modest, to  _ protect. _

Their lips brush and Catra feels on fire, a giddiness lighting in her chest. She feels like laughing. All this time and she felt the same…

_ It’s  _ **_real…_ **

The warmth suddenly turns to searing heat.

No... _ no, no no! _

She had fought the control before, felt how powerless when her body ceases to be her own. But now…

No scream escapes her lips, the takeover subtle. Just a slight ripple of tenseness, nothing Adora could respond to in time. 

She feels her lips peel into a wicked grin. She feels her lips expose her fangs. And she tastes  _ blood. _

Her hands, so gently wrapped around that powerful back -- suddenly bare her claws, and the drive down,  _ deep, _ carving past fabric and into unprotected flesh.

She feels herself shove out of that protective hold, wiping a thumb across her lips to clean off Adora’s own blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. believe me, I know.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: _slightly_ more sexually charged. Nothing intense or unsavory. The pining becomes physical. And Catra might be a bit upset Adora is a gentlewoman.

For a moment, for one sweet blissful moment, everything was perfect. Their lips pressed together in a chaste kiss felt so _right_ and Adora knew she would happily do it again and again so long as Catra let her.

Of course, the two of them don't _get_ to have nice things. Why should this moment be any different?

There’s a loudness in her ears, Prime’s magic so all encompassing it actually takes her several moments to register the _pain_. 

Her back is on fire, her lips split wide and dripping.

There’s a gasp in the crowd of onlookers as Adora manages to right Catra, to set her down safely on her own two feet before being pushed away. 

Adora can hear the Chaos beginning to unfold. The windchimes of Glimmer teleporting to her side. Bow’s voice shouting _something_. Possibly her name? She isn’t sure.

All she can manage is to look at the woman in front of her -- the woman whom she had just shared her first kiss with. The woman who was meant to be her _wife_ … and see a stranger there.

\---

With almost a hundred eyes focused on them, Bow finds himself, as much as possible, shielding Adora. 

“...I’m gonna get the both of you out, and then...I’ll deal with the party,” Glimmer says softly, as she blinks them out before the blood can pool on the ground.

Bow holds onto Adora the whole time, when they find themselves back in Adora’s room. And Glimmer doesn’t blink right away, heading to the bath to grab the roll of bandages she knows Adora keeps beneath the sink.

“What happened?” she whispers, carefully ripping off of a few to mop up the blood on those lips, at least. “...She attacked you…”

There’s tears in those eyes, her gut twisting painfully at the thought. The wounds are more superficial than anything but it’s the _message_ of the thing…

\---

The scenery changes, from the ballroom to her bedroom and she is numb to the moment of bliss she usually feels during one of Glimmer’s teleports. She leans heavily on Bow when they land and spots the jar of stars and unicorns and _dragon_ on a shelf near her bed.

Had that really only been a few hours ago?

Blinking away tears, Adora finally looks to Glimmer as her friend dabs at her busted lips.

“Not her fault…” Adora manages, her lips _burning_ as she speaks and perhaps just transforming would be better right now but she doesn’t have her sword with her. “I guess kissing her.. set someone off. I should have known better, it's my fault.”

\---

Glimmer shakes her head.

“I have to get back to the party and...find some way of explaining. Bow, just...help her clean up…”

Bow is already up, filling a basin of water as Glimmer vanishes.

“...what do you mean kissing her set someone off? Are...you saying it...wasn’t _her?”_

Concern paints that face, as he gently kneels down, dabbing at those torn lips and wincing at how deep those fangs pierced.

\---

Adora allows herself to be tended too, not putting up a fight as pain flares up with each small touch. With each act of care.

“No.. I don’t think it was. Shadow Weaver and Prime -- they put a collar on her.. It causes her pain. It’s meant to control her -- keep her in line…”

She’s never mentioned to them how magic has a _sound_ to her. It seems crazy and would have been just one more thing to make her _different_ then everyone else. Besides -- saying Catra sounded like Prime when she acted wasn’t.. proof. 

“She doesn’t want this Bow. She told me that Prime’s aim is to kill me -- so why would she try it if she’s surrounded by people who can stop her?”

\---

Bow feels his stomach turn with worry, with anger…

They had worried it was going to be an attempt on Glimmer’s life...but now that Adora says it...it makes sense she’s been the target all along. 

“...we have to call it off then. We can’t lose you, we can’t leave you open like this…”

Tears pool in his eyes at the thought. He can still see those blood stained lips curved in a wicked smile…

“...we can study the collar though. Maybe...if she isn’t...you know. If we can get her out of their grasp…”

He doesn’t really believe what he’s saying and it shows. All of his experience with Catra has been fighting against her, seeing her tearing apart Adora with near _glee._ The battle for Brightmoon left Adora with long, tear like scars down her back...something Bow finds it hard to forget. 

Even if...most of the ball had been...the opposite.

\---

“Bow we _can’t.”_

Her voice breaks on the last word. Tears, not from pain but from sheer emotion pool in her own eyes and slip down her cheeks.

“He’ll kill her if we refuse... I can’t… I can’t lose her again…” 

She knows he doesn’t believe her and she can’t blame him even if it does hurt. She isn’t sure she’d believe him if their positions were reversed somehow. 

Her heart aches in her chest at the thought of losing Catra and maybe, between just her and Bow... she can admit it.

“I care about her Bow. A lot. I -- I don’t know if I can take losing her again. Not after this. So please... help me find a way to break her free.”

\---

Bow sets down the bandages and moves to draw Adora into his arms. 

He doesn’t understand. But as he feels that body in his arms, hears her voice break…

“...alright. We can figure something out. I just….I couldn’t bear to lose _you_ either…”

He holds her. He holds her, even after they both hear Glimmer blink back in.

“...I did the best I can, people are returning to their rooms for the night but...they _did_ see Catra tear into you. I couldn’t...really damage control that…”

Glimmer walks over, gently handing Adora her sword. 

“...negotiations start in the morning though. How are you feeling?”

\---

Adora _understands._

The thought of losing Bow or Glimmer -- it's beyond painful, but losing Catra is somehow... just as painful. Possibly more so, or maybe just painful in a different way, Adora isn’t sure but she knows that losing any of them would effectively break her. Her current body was evidence of that.

She does her best not to bleed on him as they hug. Glimmer’s windchimes announce her return and Adora can hear the Sword of Power with her, its music _heavy_ but beautiful. Ancient in a similar way that the Whispering Woods sound _old._

“It wasn’t her Glimmer…” Adora tries to explain, taking the sword in one hand as she untangles herself from Bow’s warmth. “She told me... that I’m the target they want to kill and... Prime has a collar on her that he can use to keep her in line. I think... it had something to do with that.”

The rest of the attendees can think what they want. They can believe Catra attacked her for no reason and Adora would find a way to show them the _real_ Catra later -- but if her best friends don’t believe her then she’ll be alone in this fight, and that thought is terrifying. 

\---

It’s hard to believe.

Then again...the Catra they saw….bore little resemblance to the Catra that had fought them at every turn for the last few years. 

It sounds _crazy,_ and Bow and she exchange a look…

But those crystal blue eyes are flooded with tears. And torn lip and back aside...Adora seems so... _sure._

“...if…” she trails off, looking at the ceiling for a brief moment of _what am I saying?_ before continuing, “...if...we go through with this, we have to be _careful._ He...he already has the upperhand in nearly everything. This is part of a trap, Adora -- you just _said_ he wants you dead…”

But…

Glimmer pinches the bridge of her nose, fighting back a headache.

“...he has...enough of a small company to do considerable damage, if we upset him,” she concedes softly, “..I’m sure that was part of the plan all along.”

She knows Adora has wanted to save Catra since they saw her chained to that stone table. And she knows about the grave…

And she knows asking Adora to abandon Catra to... _them…_

“...I don’t know the magic but...I can start doing research. I know I’ve read about collars somewhere.”

She takes a deep breath, her gaze softening when she looks at Adora, those broken blue eyes, torn lips -- and cheeks still sparkling with crystal dust. 

“...are you going to be alright? If I go to research tonight?”

\---

She can hardly believe it -- Glimmer’s agreed to help? She expected more pleading -- some begging or at least being told _no_ first but the fact that Glimmer agrees with so little protest brings forth those tears for a whole new reason.

“Thank you,” that voice cracks again, too full of emotion to remain steady, “I promise I’ll be careful -- I won't leave this wing of the castle. I’ll transform as She-Ra to heal my back but- but I’ll take it easy tonight.”

Adora has _never_ volunteered the idea that she be contained. The mere thought of being locked up even in a space as large as Brightmoon Castle usually is usually too small for her to _willingly_ stay indoors. 

So to agree to stay within a wing of the castle just so Glimmer can focus without worry is... unheard of.

As if she feels she needs to start making good on her promise as soon as possible -- Adora lifts the Sword of Protection up into the air and with a gentle _“For the Honor of Grayskull”_ she transforms. The glowing woman standing before her friends seeming just as bright as ever but also... unable to hide just how _tired_ Adora really is. 

“I’ll keep the sword with me -- the ball is over so having it can’t cause any problems… and Glimmer? Maybe Aunt Casta would have some ideas? Shadow Weaver was a teacher at Mystacor so maybe she learned how to do it there?”

\---

It had been...some _time_ since Adora had spoken like this.

The last time...was when she had first come to them. A promise to be on their side, to be their _She-Ra._

She had sworn multiple times to stay in her She-Ra form, an attempt to ingratiate herself to Glimmer’s mother. A willingness to sign away parts of herself in order to be accepted. _Tolerated._

So to see it again...it breaks her heart. And Glimmer knows there will be no convincing Adora out of this. Out of whatever trap is being laid.

The young queen walks back to Adora, standing far taller than her now -- and gently wraps her arms around that waist. 

“...I have a lot of places to visit before tomorrow morning. Just focus on healing...on _relaxing._ Alright? Even if that relaxing is sparring in the woods.”

\---

Large arms wrap around the smaller form and as easily as the Goddess’ shape was adorned, it slips away. Adora’s smaller body makes that hug a bit tighter. She isn’t surprised when Bow joins them, enveloping them both and Adora finds she can breathe a bit easier. 

As much as she wishes it could last forever, it can’t, and Adora eases back.

“I don’t know what I would do without you… either of you. Prime might me after me but -- I wouldn’t put it past him to still try and take out someone else while he’s here. Please be careful Glimmer -- and warn the others for me?”

* * *

It’s dark. 

The polished marble is freezing cold against her skin, as she begins to wake, separated only by a thin layer of white cloth. She reaches for her chest, for Adora’s _wing..._ but it, like her dress, like the thin shawl...are gone. 

Back in his robes again, she supposes.

There’s a column of red magic around her, something she wouldn’t _dare_ to touch. She knows better. She knows the stunning electricity it carries.

The blood has since left her mouth but she can still taste it. 

She’s _furious_ but she also knows she was courting danger from the beginning. Taunting him like that. Goading him on. She shouldn’t have been surprised.

She had been puppeted back here, the blood beneath her claws and in her mouth harvested. 

_You can’t kill me. You_ **_need_ ** _me._

There were, of course, ways of inflicting _suffering_ that meant Catra kept her life. That her body remained as it was before. Prime’s favorite was _suffocation._

But the true punishment inflicted...was what he had made her do to Adora. 

She’s not sure what the worse outcome is: that Adora hates her for what she did...or that Adora _doesn’t._

There’s no wall to rest against and the floor is _freezing._ The cushions have all been placed close enough to the barrier to act as their own torture, because of _course_ Shadow Weaver would do that. 

There’s a sudden flicker. And then -- the barrier falls. Bicolored eyes flash open. 

She’s alone in the room -- both Shadow Weaver and the Emperor had their own chambers. This was hers to be held inside. But the barrier is gone. 

A breeze moves through the room, passing towards the balcony. And Catra follows.

Vines climb the walls, and she can see one room, several floors up, with windows lit. All other rooms dark. 

Her body is exhausted from possession, but she feels the urge, the _desire._ That _must_ be Adora’s room. 

The vines make for easy climbing, for her tired, tortured body. It takes her some time to reach the top, and by the time she does, the room is dark. 

Curious. 

And when she looks back down the wall, after arriving on the balcony….the vines are gone. 

_Curious._

Still, there’s no question this is Adora’s room. She can _smell_ her, she can smell the bed, the blankets. There’s a faint scent of blood. 

She walks over to the flat bed, dragging her fingers along the bed before taking hold of Adora’s pillow and hugging it to her chest as tears spring to her eyes. 

There’s a standard bed pushed into the corner -- one of those much more full beds, fluffed to the top with blankets and pillows. Perhaps something for when those best friends of hers come to visit. 

Catra sets about burying herself beneath the countless blankets and pillows, stealing Adora’s away with her. And deep down, under the self created nest, Catra begins to knead on Adora’s pillow until those eyes slowly close.

\---

Adora returns to her room several hours later, belly full of tea and arms full of origami dragons she had made while sitting quietly in Netossa and Spinnerella’s room. The couple had welcomed her in with open arms, fretting over her as they had seen the entire ordeal play out from start to finish.

It had taken her some time to assure them that she was _fine._ Physically at least. Emotionally she was still a bit all over the place, which is why she had decided to go to the older women, and as it turned out the pair were more than happy to spend time making origami with Adora as their teacher.

It turned into a bit of a competition, who could make a design the fastest, then the smallest. It was good fun and a better distraction -- but eventually it had gotten late. Adora had already made them leave their room one night too many and so she left them for the evening.

Alone, with only her thoughts in her darkened room, Adora pauses. She knows nightmares await her. If the days events hadn’t been traumatic enough for her mind she is _sure_ Shadow Weaver will grace her with another evening full of mental torture. 

Still, she had promised Glimmer she would _try_ to rest -- so with a sigh she places her origami creations down onto a table and shuffles out of her jacket and boots.

\---

Catra startles awake with the sound of the door opening, slitted eyes peering from beneath the blankets and pillows to see a familiar shape walk in. 

She can see a large jar in those arms, catching the light of the sconces in the hall. Filled with colored paper…?

When it is only Adora, Catra’s nerves calm somewhat. She figures she can stay here undetected, all night long, perhaps sneak out in the morning. Being near enough Adora...but not _too_ close…

She rests a hand on that pillow, starting to knead all over again. She wonders how Adora feels….what she’s thinking.

When the clothes start to fall however, Catra’s eyes dart down, away. It feels... _wrong,_ hiding in her room to watch Adora undress. Even if she’s seen it all before. 

\----

Glimmer and Bow had spent years trying to encourage Adora to wear something they called _pajamas,_ but the thought of wearing special clothes to sleep in was so _foreign_ to Adora that she thought at first they had to be joking. She’d soon learned that all of Brightmoon wore these sorts of special clothes to sleep in but it just... never felt like something she could relax enough to do. So even though she had long left the Horde, Adora merely changed into a clean tunic, worn loose without a belt, and a new pair of trousers. 

Absentmindedly she reached into the new pants’ pockets for the tuft of Catra’s hair when she realizes that it wouldn’t be there. A quick shake of her head and Adora moves to her bed, to grab the single solitary pillow she slept with -- but it wasn’t there. 

Her bed was made, seemingly undisturbed, save for the missing pillow. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem. Adora would have assumed it had gotten moved in the chaos of the afternoon and she could simply grab another... but she had placed that treasured tuft in her pillowcase for safe keeping and the thought of sleeping without it to help when she woke from those nightmares was... too much.

A finger pressed to her palm, that’s what Netossa had told her and what had proven to work so far -- and sure enough there’s a gentle pull in the direction of the rooms _other_ bed. The one she couldn’t possibly use but that Bow and Glimmer often shared during sleepovers. 

Curiously she walks over, wondering if the pillow had been placed on top somehow.

\---

_Of course._

Catra’s tail, against her will, bushes up when Adora begins to walk over towards the bed, and she curses herself for taking the one pillow. Adora was _always_ particular that way...always liked things _just so._

Still, the stolen pillow is deep beneath the stack of dozens of others, and she wonders if maybe Adora could be swayed with a _substitute._

...But. This is _Adora._

She closes her eyes, going as still as possible around that pillow, still praying Adora will become _distracted_ with another pillow.

\---

The pull leads her to the bed but gives no further instruction. It seems Netossa’s spell assumes Adora is close enough to whatever it is she’s looking for that she _should_ be able to find it. 

So, she starts to dig. 

Large blankets are shifted to one side, a few smaller throw pillows unearthed beneath them that Adora had forgotten even _belonged_ to this room. 

A few more blankets removed and she freezes -- an ear now exposed.

“Catra…?”

\---

Those eyes open, but fail to look up at Adora. Those arms wrap tighter around the pillow, as if keeping her body between her claws...and the person she hurt only hours before.

“...hey, Adora,” she whispers, softly muffled. With a deep inhale, those eyes _finally_ lift, and she finds herself grateful those lips are healed most of the way. 

She thinks about fighting -- about saying how Adora’s pillow is now hers and she should find another one. But...she also worries she shouldn’t be here anyways. Her tail swishes in thought as her arms wrap tighter around that pillow.

\---

Adora softens, hearing that voice. Seeing how Catra clings to her pillow reminds her of how she would often return to her bunk only to find her pillow missing and Catra mysteriously having _two_ in hers. 

A bit of prodding and Catra would always return one -- but it was never _Adora’s_ pillow. It smelled far too much like Catra for it to have been the one Adora slept on every night, but the scent was comforting and as it became harder and harder to share a bed without getting caught, having Catra’s scent was _almost_ as good as having her curled up at her feet. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Adora admits, softly as she stares at bicolored eyes, reflecting the light that reaches them back at her, “I.. was worried about you.”

\---

That slender body, clothed in blinding white, slowly sits up. Those hands...carefully release the pillow, setting it down on the pile of others before burying between her own legs, to keep her claws away from Adora. 

“...Shadow Weaver’s containment spell failed a little while ago so….I came up here.”

She hears Adora’s voice, the low warmth, the _gentleness..._ but this time she can’t be fooled. She can’t be distracted. It...could cost them _everything._

“...you saw what happened. He’s going to do that to _you._ You _have_ to call it off, I have...no control when he does that.”

Tears begin to flood her eyes, and that slim body curls around itself.

“...You _have_ to call it off. Please, Adora,” her voice breaks, and she forces herself to swallow against the lump in her throat. _“...please._ I got careless at the ball. I...I didn’t...I didn’t know you...you felt that way and I got _careless_ but you _have_ to call it off. He wants you dead and he’s going to use me to do it.”

\----

As Catra makes her case, makes her _plea_ for Adora to call the whole thing off, Adora moves to lift that pillow. While Catra lists her valid reasons and voices the same opinions as Bow and Glimmer... Adora slides her hand into the pillow’s case until her fingers brush against that tuft of hair she’s grown so fond of.

Tuft in hand, Adora returns her attention to Catra and... shows it to her.

“I won't... because he’ll kill you. I lost you once before Catra. Prime sent me this as proof that you were alive and I’ve been so afraid this was all just a dream that I’ve kept this with me as _proof_ that it is real.”

She knows better than to reach out to Catra right now, and can tell how _afraid_ she is by the way she sits on her hands in order to keep her claws in line. It hurts Adora to see, but she isn’t angry. 

“You weren’t careless at the ball... you were _free._ You were yourself and I was enjoying it until he took you over... but Catra. Prime miscalculated. Now that I know that he _can_ I wont be taken by surprise... and no offense but... I’m pretty sure I can hold you down and you wouldn’t be able to break free, at least these days.”

\---

Slitted eyes follow Adora’s hands, watching them slip into the pillow case.

She doesn’t recognize it at first, her lip curling in disgust, wondering if Adora’s showing her a dead rat. But then…

She remembers it being taken. She remembers standing in Prime’s study, shivering, barely aware. She remembers that knife…

Against her will, she lifts a hand to her neck, up behind her ear. Those tufts are long gone, but still...she rubs where they used to be…

“..you kept it...in your pillow?”

She blinks back tears at the thought. 

“...Adora, it’s not _worth_ it. It’s not worth the risk.”

Her ears pin back and she stuffs her hand back down, eyes squeezed shut.

 _“I’m_ not worth it. I never _have_ been.”

\---

Adora doesn’t hesitate as she envelops Catra in a hug, pressing their cheeks together as she rests her chin on that shoulder. She holds tight, an aim to pin Catra’s arms between them for Catra’s peace of mind more than anything else. 

“You’re worth it to me,” Adora’s voice is soft. Warm. Full of... love. “I kept it in my pillow because it smelled like you. Because I was afraid you’d come in a casket and Prime would present you to me with his condolences that you were too weak for the journey.”

She shakes her head and squeezes tighter, her body quivering as she recalls what she saw in that scry. How Catra was in chains and dripping wet, shivering and so so thin. 

“I’m going to get you out of this. I’m going to bring you home with me, to live here. I promise Catra.”

\---

Tears stream down those cheeks as, while stiff, Catra wants _more_ of this tight embrace. She gazes unseeingly at the wall, letting herself be pinned. 

“...I suppose that’s not such an...out of character idea of his. He’s...all about spectacle.”

Those eyes slowly close, and she rests her chin more firmly on that shoulder. She struggles to believe Adora is capable of _fixing_ this, but that warmth -- that love...it’s seductive. And after so long alone, Catra has little defense for it, finding her body begin to quake once again. 

In a moment of weakness, she buries her face into that neck.

“...you...promise?”

It’s muffled. Quiet. Nearly _desperate_. 

\---

“I promise.” It’s whispered into that neck and Adora feels tears forming in her eyes that she blinks away frantically.

The position she is in is awkward to hold for long, and as much as she dislikes the softness of the bed Catra is in -- it would be more comfortable to join her in it then to continue to stand. With a bit of maneuvering, Adora scoots forward and kneels on the bed, her legs parted so Catra rests between them.

It allows her to bring the smaller woman _closer,_ to tighten the hold and ensure Catra feels safe and wanted. 

“Is this… okay?”

\---

The position is vulnerable, as Adora scoots close, and she finds herself between those strong thighs, her throat a bit _dry._ She keeps her hands beneath her own thighs, arching her chest gently against Adora to assure her she _wants_ to be held but...fears her claws and what they did. 

“...I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “...I...I can _feel_ what he’s doing...I still feel sick on the taste of your blood.”

Catra nuzzles that cheek weakly, keeping her chest pressed in place against Adora’s. 

“...I thought...that...with everything that had happened, I would just...be sent to the dungeons. Your wife in name only but…”

She trembles a bit.

“...but never to see you again.”

\---

Adora closes her eyes, relishing the closeness and the feel of their bodies intertwined. She can feel how Catra trembles in her arms, and how her voice is so _soft._

“I know... the last time we saw one another I was so _angry_ at you. I… I know you thought I hated you and I thought I did too but... I realized after I thought you were... gone... that it wasn’t hate at all.”

Adora takes a deep breath and slowly starts to rock them side to side. Something she never would have been able to get away with in the Horde but here in Brightmoon her gentle need to move was welcomed with open arms. 

“I was _hurt._ I was upset and lonely and confused... I didn’t understand how you could go through with it and I thought it was anger but... it was all just hurt. Once you were gone I just felt _guilt._ My actions had hurt you... Prime was _so kind_ to bring that up to me today and... I’m sorry too Catra. I’m so so sorry.”

She leans back, opening her eyes just in hopes that she might be able to look into Catra’s.

\---

The rocking is comforting. She remembers it from long ago, before they were cadets. Back when such a thing was tolerated.

Catra rubs her cheek to that jaw, inhaling deep as her tail gently rests on Adora’s thigh.

“...I’m trying to set it right,” she whispers. “...I...did everything I did out of a desire to be better than you. But...but now all I want is to do the right thing...I’m just afraid it’s too late.”

Shyly, Catra lifts a single hand, taking hold of Adora’s wrist, drawing her thumb curiously over the dragon bangle. 

“...this came from Thaymor. Prime….paid a lot of money for it. Should...set the town for quite a while.”

\---

The rocking slows as Catra brings Adora’s attention back to the bangle on her wrist. Unconsciously Adora seeks out her buckle and tries her best to hide her disappointment when she notices it missing. 

It’s an easy enough thing to do, as she learns that Catra had Prime overpay for her bangle and the thought of it has Adora tipping her head back a bit to laugh. 

“Not only did you somehow manage to find me the _perfect_ engagement gift -- I mean it's a _dragon_ and the colors are _stunning_ \-- but you also got Prime to overpay for it so that Thaymor can live comfortably for a while? I think this might just be the greatest present of all time.”

Adora leans forward, knowing what she wants to do but realizes at the last moment a kiss might be _too much_ for this moment, so she diverts her lips to a cheek. Softly pressing them against the fur before following it up with a cheek rub, knowing how much Catra always liked doing that as they grew up. Something about sharing their scents.

“It's never too late to try Catra... I’m proud of you for doing that.”

\---

Catra feels her chest seize when Adora looks for the buckle. She smiles softly at the laugh but...the disappointment cuts deep. 

_She had only worn it for barely thirty minutes, yet now without its comforting weight, she feels cold. Empty._

But she’s pulled into a soft kiss on her cheek and Catra holds that wrist as she rubs softly on Adora.

The praise is effusive and floods Catra’s heart. A weak, rattling purr escapes from her throat.

“Y-yeah,” she whispers softly, closing her eyes and remembering those furious brown eyes glaring at her...the threat of those antlers. And she remembers the jolt of electric magic straight through her heart, just outside of Thaymor, Prime driving the toe of his boot into her chest for such _defiance_ before he let Shadow Weaver heal the bruise lest it mar the open window on her engagement gown. 

“...I think they cursed him,” she whispers tiredly. “He’s been complaining about some...shroud of magic, ever since we came from Thaymor.”

\---

The sound of that purr makes Adora relax. She can’t help it -- that sound runs deep through their history together and always served as a means to signal happiness or soothing. It's so ingrained in her mind that she _sighs,_ pressing more of her weight against Catra as she sags in relief. 

Distantly she knows Catra must have been punished for her actions, but if the woman in her arms doesn’t want to bring it up right now... Adora won't force her. 

“Glimmer told me a while ago that Thaymor used to have a guardian to protect them. Maybe they had something to do with it. If so I want to thank them personally and ask them to give Prime the worst headache of all time and to never let it go away.”

\---

“...I’m probably pretty lucky the thing didn’t kill me where I stood,” she whispers, those eyes fluttering closed. “...I’m pretty sure that shop keep would have enjoyed killing me if Prime hadn’t been there.”

She wonders if they’d ever be able to forgive. She supposes it’s...not that simple. 

“....they were certainly conflicted though,” she whispers with a soft smile. “...to have something they made on She-Ra’s wrist.”

\---

Adora looks at her bangle again and smiles, but it's obviously conflicted after hearing Catra’s words.

“It is truly impressive... and I would like to meet the shopkeeper who made it some day… perhaps by then they will be willing to make something for me to give to you as well. Maybe... they’ll see how you’re trying and working on being better and... see in you what I see.”

She yawns, the insanity of the day finally starting to catch up with her. 

\---

“...I’d like that,” comes Catra’s soft voice. “...I…”

Her voice trails off, her head resting to that shoulder. She feels Adora yawn…

“...does...She-Ra heal you? Your lips don’t look too bad...does your back hurt?”

Catra presses close, her eyes closing. That purr grows louder, more confident.

\---

“Mmm?” Adora hums, curious as she processes Catra’s question, “Oh -- uh yea. Usually. That's how I healed up so quickly.”

She lays them down, that extra soft mattress not _quite_ so bad with the added company. Perhaps Adora would be able to sleep without the firm surface beneath her due to sheer exhaustion.

The position isn’t exactly _comfortable_ though, and Adora moves to take Catra’s hands by the wrist, holding them in place as she scoots into a more comfortable position on her side, their legs still remaining intertwined at the ankles.

\---

The noise that escapes Catra’s lips is nearly _pleading_ when she’s positioned lower, and lower still, lying back onto the bed while tucked close. Adora holding her hands by the wrist is...it _entices_ something inside of her…

Gently she pulls against the hand holding her wrists -- not to break free. She wonders if she can coax those fingers _tighter_.

“...are you in...pain at all?” comes that soft voice, sliding her tail gently further up that thigh.

\---

Adora blinks slowly, the day's excitement catching up with her all at once. She yawns again, mouth wide and exhale soft. Her hands move, responding to that silent request, to squeeze Catra’s wrists a bit tighter, and to bring them up to press a gentle kiss to those knuckles.

“Mm.. not really. Not anymore... are you?”

She knows the answer is likely yes, but She-Ra has only ever managed to heal someone other than herself _once._ The chances of being able to try and heal Catra tonight is next to zero, especially with exhaustion rapidly willing. 

“I… understand if you can’t stay but... I’d like it if you would.”

\---

The hold on her wrists _does_ something to her.

Being bound against her will is….different. But this...there’s something about this that’s soothing. Comforting, perhaps. 

She presses in closer, when Adora kisses her knuckles, when she confirms she’s not really in pain. 

And despite having lived in a constant buzz of pain for the last...well, half a year...she finds she doesn’t care. Her body is held, safe and comfortable, and Adora is here. Adora is holding her…

“...I’m not going back,” she whispers. “...but...please, is...I…”

She trails off, lifting her wrists in that hand.

“...bind me...please? I...I don’t...want to hurt you.”

Tears flood that gaze.

\----

The requests jolts her back from the edge of sleep. Catra wants to be _bound_ ? Adora frowns, the thought twisting her stomach uneasily but then she sees those tears and realizes-- Catra is _afraid_.

“You wouldn’t hurt me Catra…” Adora whispers, kissing a palm, “But Prime _would…”_

She sighs in thought, wondering how best to go about it when her eyes fall to her wrist -- the Sword of Protection resting against her arm as a bracer. The realization dawns on her in full and with her free hand she pulls the sword of protection free and transforms it into a pair of cuffs meant to bind the wrists together. 

“We could use this… if you’re sure.” 

\---

Catra regrets that Adora goes from relaxed and sleepy to alert. But the kiss to her palm...the way she draws the blade from her arm…

She sniffles softly.

“...I would though. I have…” 

Her voice is quiet, as she traces her fingers over the freshly made shackles. 

“Adora, I -- ”

She cuts off, the tears in her eyes welling till they spill freely down her cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry for everything…”

That head lifts to the ceiling, and she steals her arm to rest over her eyes, to hide the tears. It takes her a few moments just to _settle,_ before blood shot eyes gently return to the shackles, golden and beautiful. And her fingers trace the cuffs once again.

“...y-yeah. Yeah I’m...I’m sure…”

\---

Adora waits quietly, stroking the wrist still held in one hand, her thumb tracing over that pulse point while Catra hides her tears.

She knows not to mention the moment of weakness -- to ignore that those tears are being shed. Even though Adora has lived in Brightmoon for years now, she can count on one hand the number of people who have seen her cry. She knows how _significant_ it is for Catra to trust her in this moment and she won't interrupt but… she wont pull away either. 

“Hey…” Adora whispers, hearing that apology makes her own eyes misty, “Catra…”

She doesn’t know how to _say_ what she feels. How she hopes they can move past the blaming and the apologies one day -- how she still feels hurt for how Catra behaved back then but how right now... right now all she wants is for Catra to feel safe. To feel loved.

“Okay... hold still and I’ll put it on…” 

\---

She knows the safest thing will be hands behind her back, so she turns slightly, resting her hands near her hips. Her claws are retracted for now -- as harmless as they can _look._

The space looking away from Adora is comforting, and her tail swishes gently as her mind falls into thought. Her sniffling calms and settles...and she takes a big deep shuddering breath before releasing it through her nose.

“When...Prime sent his proposal….and you accepted...what were you thinking about…?”

It’s a selfish question. A solicitation for validation. But she finds after all this time she _needs_ it.

\---

Adora’s mouth goes dry as that back is presented to her, the fabric covering Catra’s body is so _thin_ that even in the dim light of her room, she can see how it shapes the smaller woman’s body, leaving little to the imagination.

It takes Adora some time to work up the nerve to attach the shackles to those wrists. To _restrict_ Catra feels wrong, like she is no better than Shadow Weaver or Prime -- but Catra _asked_ her to, and if it will make her comfortable enough to stay the night... then Adora will do it.

Those shackles glow for a moment, padding forming so as to keep the restraints from rubbing those wrists raw while also tightening them without cutting off circulation. Adora nods once, satisfied that they’ll do and then considers Catra’s question.

“You... I was thinking about you. I thought... I thought you were _dead_ and the moment I knew you weren’t I…” Adora pauses, a hand moving up to brush the back of Catra’s neck before gently pulling the high cloth collar down. Those eyes glare at that collar, the source of so much _pain._ She does not think twice about shifting forward and pressing her lips just beneath that band of metal, holding the kiss for a few heartbeats before pulling away. “Saying no was never an option.”

\---

Those hands, calloused from war, are -- nonetheless -- warm and gentle, as they take hold of her wrists, fitting sword-turned-shackles around them. She had thought the feeling would leave her restless, panicked -- but to her surprise...all she feels is a quiet sense of...peace.

Her clothing is thin, her wrists are bound, and then -- lips, against the back of her neck. 

Catra swallows hard.

“...he gave me the letter,” she whispers softly in reply. “I suppose that was the first time I was fully aware, when he received the letter from Brightmoon. It...it didn’t smell like you, and it wasn’t your handwriting...so…”

Her voice trails off, remembering the cruel grin on that face when he handed her the letter. 

“...I had to hide it, in the Fright Zone. I guess it was Sparkles’ handwriting?”

\---

Adora hums an affirmative little sound, her cheek pressed against the back of that neck. The hand that had pulled away the fabric now made its way to that shoulder, following the curves until it rested against Catra’s side.

A part of her wishes she could stay just like this, Catra’s back pressed up against her front, free access to gently hold the smaller woman -- to kiss that throat... but she won't take advantage like that.

“I wasn’t... in any state to write. Besides, I don’t know how to use the formal language needed to write a letter like that. Glimmer just... did it for me... I’m not even sure what she said except that she agreed to put in a comment that you weren’t to be harmed... and that I agreed to marry you.”

Gently Adora presses on that side, prompting Catra to roll so that they can face one another again, if she wanted.

\---

Despite Adora’s desire to turn her, Catra has no such desire, instead moving to rest her head on that shoulder and arch her back.

The thin robes _before_ had been a humiliation, and with her lack of mane she slept cold and feeling no better than if she had been bare. 

But something about it _now_ ignites a different feeling, and when that hand gently slides down her neck, she _almost_ growls that it doesn’t drag the cloth with it. 

She gives another arch against that body -- unaggressive, and yet, perhaps _teasing._

Secretly she knows Adora is either too _distracted_ or too noble to take advantage of the current situation. That’s rather like her.

“...I guess that makes sense. He made a big deal about the fact that you didn’t write it,” she whispers, her voice soft. “...but now I guess I can just see that’s him.”

Her tail flicks restlessly at the tip, both a reflection of her steadily growing desire to be claimed in some way and of her mind at work.

Perhaps the latter moreso, when she asks.

“...what made you agree? You’re pretty suspicious, I doubt a lock of my hair could have made you believe right away.”

\---

Adora bites her lip to keep back the noise she nearly made as Catra arched _further_ into her. Their bodies pressing nearly flush with those hands trapped between them -- she doesn’t notice how her fingers curl to dig into that side, holding that body _still_ . She doesn’t push Catra away, but she isn’t sure -- she isn’t _sure._ Her body is feeling things she’s never allowed herself to explore before.

There was never any time, or the fear of being caught was too great, or the fact that it would lead to punishment -- Adora was used to burying anything like _this_ deep down inside her and hoping she’d just... forget it.

Knowing how her reply to Catra’s question might very well sour the mood, Adora takes a deep breath.

“It smelled like you... but you’re right. I wasn’t sure, so I begged Glimmer to cast a spell. There had to be _something_ that would prove you were alive... and... well... there was…”

Adora trails off, remembering the voice of Shadow Weaver after so many years away from the sorceress. How she instantly regressed into old habits -- how Catra was _displayed_.

“Shadow Weaver... intercepted the scry... but she showed us you.”

\---

She feels those fingers dig into her side, biting her lip as that hand holds her tightly. She can’t tell if the motion is to keep her from coming closer or to keep her from going _away._ Either is fine, she decides, if Adora keeps her where she is.

Her head tips back further into that shoulder as her eyes close. She can’t help a small smile when Adora confirms it _smelled_ like her -- she had not considered that Adora could rely on scent in such a way -- her smile fades when she mentions a scry. 

“...what did she show you…?” comes that voice. She has a distant memory, of chains, of an icy stone table, of being soaking wet and wondering if they were just going to let her body succumb to it. 

\---

Adora shivers, just remembering. Catra had been in such terrible shape that Adora had been ill moments after. That hand moves down to rest against the smaller woman’s stomach, pulling her back and into a hug as if to warm them both.

“You. You’re back bare and fur soaked with water. You were shivering and strapped to a table with chains holding you in place. I…” Adora shakes her head, tipping it forward to rest against Catra’s shoulder to better breath in that scent, “I could hear you... whimpering…”

Her voice wavers, and she pulls Catra closer. Not squeezing but _proactive_ as she wish she could have been before.

\---

Despite herself, Catra’s lips pull into a smile.

“She must have loved that. She didn’t even have to orchestrate it. You just called right in at the perfect moment, I guess…”

Her body relaxes, her frame melting against Adora’s with a soft sigh.

“...if it helps, I only remember pieces of it. I was filthy after months in Shadow Weaver’s loving care, so Prime ordered a bath and...for my mane to be cut. I don’t know if he knows enough about me to know if it was a punishment all its own or if it was just pragmatic evil.”

That slim stomach arches into that hand.

“I do remember the table though. It felt like it was made of ice…”

\---

Their bodies molding into one another feels so _right_ that Adora wonders for a moment how she could have discovered it sooner. A part of her knows she’ll never want to sleep alone again, the press of a warm body against her own nearly an addictive sensation. 

She follows Catra’s lead, her muscles untensing, her body stretching just a bit as she yawns softly besides that ear.

“I won't let them touch you,” Adora mumbles, squeezing herself closer, “And I’ll find a way to destroy that stupid table... but at least here you wont ever be cold.”

Adora pauses, her mind wandering back to phrases she’d heard used around Brightmoon. Phrases she’d never dared to use herself but that feel _right_ in this moment.

“And I can just kiss any injuries better, if they manage to sneak by.”

\---

Catra falls silent, but the twitching of her tail demonstrates she’s chewing on something…

Finally, with those arms locked around her…

“...promise…?”

Tears flood her eyes as she leans back, as far as she can, into those arms, inhaling deeply to flood her chest with Adora’s scent, with _life._

“...are you telling me She-Ra has healing kisses too?”

Despite her tears, she feels her lips pull into another little smirk.

\---

Adora smiles, allowing herself to get comfortable with Catra's weight pressed against her. 

"I promise…" she whispers into that shortened mane, pressing another kiss to the back of that head. "We could find out together… if you'd want. I haven't tried kissing anyone as She-Ra.."

The image that comes to mind is… intense. Adora picturing that muscular form lifting Catra with _ease_ several inches off the ground -- Catra's legs wrapping around her torso for support as their lips brush…

Its a good thing Catra's back is towards her. Adora isn't sure how she would explain how red her face has become if Catra teased her about it.

\---

“You kiss a lot of people otherwise..?” comes that soft voice, more _teasing_ than jealous.

(Though Catra admits, at least to herself, the thought of Adora kissing another girl makes something inside her _twist_ uncomfortably.)

Her tail lifts gently, to rest over that thigh, shivering despite herself at the soft mouth brushing against the back of her head.

\---

“Mmm.. no.. today was my first kiss…”

It comes out as a soft admission, one she.. Well _regrets_ isn’t the right word. It had been beautiful… it had been perfect… but it had also been ruined and that. That hurts.

The disappointment comes through, just a little, through the tiredness. 

She wishes she could ask for another -- wonders if Catra would allow her to try again.. But she doesn’t want to sound demanding. She fears Catra has no power here, especially while bound and in need of her help -- so she just stays quiet.

\---

The confession drives a lance through Catra’s heart.

She rolls over, a task perhaps _complicated_ for anyone else, but after the life she’s lived, this would hardly be the first night she slept in shackles. Her body rolls easily.

She gazes into those eyes, her ears drooping apologetically.

“...I ruined your first kiss,” she whispers, fighting back the guilt that threatens to consume her. 

Catra drags a deep breath, biting her tongue gently. She looks away, blinking back suddenly welling tears in her eyes.

“...I’m sorry.”

\---

Adora’s eyes go wide at the response. She -- she knew Catra would _care_ but to see tears? 

“No.. _you_ didn’t ruin anything Catra -- It was... it was really really nice. I just wish Prime didn’t have to get in the way.. I’d been.. Well I’d been practicing a bit and I just -- ” 

She flushes at the admission, hoping that the information might -- might do _something_ . Give Catra a chance to tease her or -- or laugh or _anything_ but cry. Adora hates it when she cries and it isn’t her _fault._

“We can... always say that one doesn’t count and... the next time is the real one. I’m okay with that if you are?”

\---

Adora’s confession is utterly _endearing_ and Catra’s guilt soothes. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and she rolls slightly, onto her back but still in those arms, gazing into those eyes. 

“How do you practice kissing?” she asks, a gentle tease but lacking some of the bite her previous digs have had. That tail brushes softly over Adora’s thigh.

But Adora’s suggestion warms something inside her. It confirms what she had hoped, desperately: that Adora _did_ enjoy the kiss, that she wants another. 

“...when do you want that next one…?” she whispers, as her gaze slips from those blue eyes and down to Adora’s bruised lips.

\---

“With your hand, so I’m told but… I’m not sure if that was meant as a joke.”

Adora moves to follow Catra, staying on her side so that she is a bit above the smaller woman, looking down at her as she notices that small smile return. Her gamble worked and she feels a swell of warmth in her chest, knowing that she did that -- that she made Catra smile. 

But then those bicolored eyes move lower -- and Adora knows they are staring at her lips. She licks them, the attention making her aware of how _dry_ they are and has it always been this warm?

“I-- I mean… Whenever you do.. I-- I wouldn’t mind it being soon though… but I’m.. I’m happy to wait…”

\---

She worries...it will happen again.

Then again, she worries they’ll never really have the chance to do so in public in the coming days. 

She takes Adora’s flustered hedging for desire, and leans up, softly capturing that bruised lower lip between her own. 

She doesn’t suck, figuring Adora must still be a bit sore. And she doesn’t try to deepen it.

In truth, Catra is desperate to know whether or not it will be _safe._ Whether or not she would feel that burn every time she almost has what she wants.

So she steals her kiss.

“Fuck him,” she whispers against those lips, “...fuck him for ruining that for us.”

\---

Those eyes go wide, shocked that those lips are pressed to hers again -- but those lids fall as she relaxes into it. It's soft, and gentle, and when Catra pulls away Adora makes a soft noise of disappointment, only to giggle once she realizes what was said.

“Fuck him,” Adora agrees, blinking slowly at Catra before gently pressing their lips togeather again. 

She never wants to stop doing this, and cautiously she brings a hand up to cup Catra’s cheek. Just to hold to _stroke._

\---

It’s better, she decides.

This one is quiet. It’s dark and it reminds her of those stolen moments in the Fright Zone. It reminds her of being safe, being warm. Of knowing only Adora after a bad day.

Adora gets more confident, once given permission to be, and Catra finds herself happily at that mercy. A gentle hand cups her cheek and she thrills softly, sliding her thigh carefully against Adora’s.

“...this isn’t your normal bed, though, is it…?” she asks softly, as her eyes start to grow heavy. 

\---

A sharp intake of air breaks the silence of the room as Catra’s thigh moves against her. She has no idea why such a simple action elicited such a response but she knows in the future -- if they ever get the chance -- she’ll explore this discovery further. 

She offers one more kiss, this one firmer than the others, a promise. Adora _will_ find a way to enjoy that future together. 

“No.. but it's not so bad with you in it.” 

She sees that look, and knows how exhausted her own body is. They’ll have a long day tomorrow and it is already terribly late, their stolen moment lasting well into the night.

“We can stay here... I’ll wake you in the morning.”

\---

Catra’s eyes struggle to stay open, her head relaxing into the soft cushioning. She hears that faint gasp, but her weakness is starting to come back. And she knows Adora is comparably tired…

“...you haven’t been sleeping well either, have you,” she whispers, her voice distant and quiet. “I hope you sleep well tonight…”

And like that...she’s out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mild warnings for nudity, scar mentions/descriptions. Like the last chapter, _slightly_ more sexually charged, but nothing intense or unsavory.

The room is quiet, when the queen arrives. 

It’s terribly early, just shy of dawn. But Glimmer has a lot to catch Adora up on, after her late night of research. And the negotiation table awaits.

She’s taken to waking Adora up on her own, ever since Adora had come to them all those years ago. Every early morning they had, after Adora had mentioned the Horde would simply drop a bucket of cold water for late risers. 

She found it one of her favorite things -- an intimacy shared that Adora allows her to see her so vulnerable. 

At first most of those mornings would find Adora already awake. But more and more recently, Adora has slept in a great deal, despite troubled sleep…

And it seems this morning is no different. Glimmer approaches quietly, but when she finds Adora’s bed empty, it takes her a moment to realize there’s a soft snore coming from the overstuffed guest bed.

_ Odd. _

She approaches slowly, seeing Adora’s broad shoulder but then -- something clothed in white?

Her eyes widen and she claps her hand over her mouth, blinking out and grabbing Bow.

“Bow. Bow -- oh  _ stars _ you  _ have _ to see this!”

\---

The Tech Master hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Frankly none of them had. The image of Adora’s bleeding back, of Catra’s smile -- it had been a nightmare to calm everyone down, even  _ after _ Glimmer had talked to them. 

Bow wasn’t normally one to miss out on sleep -- Adora and Glimmer both gave him enough trouble about that over the years that he’d decided at least  _ one _ of them needed to get consistent and regular rest to ensure they didn’t all succumb to exhaustion... but sleep last night had eluded him. 

He’d gone to the workbench in his room, intending on making some improvements to his newest trick arrows-- but ended up making origami stars and dragons, practicing a few other kinds he thought Adora might like.

At some point, he’d rested his eyes for just a moment and then…

“WHAA?!” He shouted, Glimmer’s sudden appearance in his room taking him by surprise and bringing him to attention, “ _ Glimmer _ ? What’s so important that I -- ”

\---

Glimmer is practically _ bouncing _ when she wakes Bow up.

“Ok ok so I went to wake up Adora since we have a really early morning negotiation she needs to be present for and…”

She dances in place, a fast excited little jog. 

“Look!”

She grabs a hold of Bow’s arm, clapping a hand gently over his mouth to teleport them next to that bed.

Neither have moved much, a dark, velvety ear limp and relaxed against Adora’s chest while that face tucks down into the covers. That long tail rests gently over Adora’s thigh, and those wrists are bound with beautiful shackles that look strangely like the Sword of Protection.

Glimmer teleports them into the hallway, going back to her excited little dance.

\---

It takes him a minute to process exactly what it is he is seeing. The fact that Adora isn’t on her usual hard mattress bed but is on the soft one he and Glimmer have used during sleepovers is surprising-- but then he sees that she isn’t  _ alone _ in that bed. 

His grin is as wide as it ever has been as Glimmer teleports him out into the hall.

“What. Was. That! Oh my gosh Glimmer Did you -- they are -- !?”

He joins her in her excitement, marching in place, both hands on his cheeks and his eyes practically  _ sparkling _ . 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Catra look so -- soo  _ cute _ before!”

\---

The smile across her own face mirrors his, but it softens somewhat. Softens with the memory of the ball the day before.

“...so it wasn’t fake. It was real...the looks they gave each other, it wasn’t….it wasn’t a trick…”

Her voice is soft, as she looks back to Adora’s door, her heart twisting at the thought. 

“...it’s hard to imagine after all this time but. I think...I think Catra  _ loves _ her.”

It’s not hard to believe Adora could love Catra -- Adora had a heart of gold, a heart so big that Bow and she couldn’t  _ help _ but fall in love with her, Horde background and all.

But she and Catra had been at such odds...it was hard to picture the woman that lead the assault on Brightmoon, the one that tore Adora up with such  _ wicked _ glee -- would be cradled in those arms just behind the door.

“...I think,” Glimmer whispers, her heart squeezing in her chest, “...I think they  _ want _ this.”

\---

Bow’s excitement faded as Glimmer started to soften, his own smile changing from one of joy to one of contemplation. 

“Do you think... what Adora said was true? Prime really  _ is _ controlling Catra somehow?”

The difference between the Catra that brought Adora a gift, that danced with her and made her smile and soften in such a way that he and Glimmer hadn’t seen in  _ so long _ \-- and the one that smiled gleefully as blood ran down her claws was so stark... it wasn’t hard to believe they were different people. Yet, they had seen that Catra before, years ago delighting in the pain she caused Adora at Brightmoon or at the Selenias sea gate. 

“...I think you’re right though. I think... Adora didn’t share a lot with us.”

\---

“I guess it’s hard to imagine saying our worst enemy is...really your best friend,” Glimmer tries, taking a soft, deep breath. “...she...she did make a grave for her. When she thought I wasn’t paying attention. It’s a little ways off from where she trains in the Whispering Woods.”

Her voice is quiet, and she takes a deep breath.

“...I’m gonna go wake them. We still have negotiations soon.”

Glimmer wraps her arms around Bow, giving him a careful squeeze before blinking back inside Adora’s room.

~

The presence of magic, and the sound of Sparkles’ particular brand of it wakes Catra, but not enough to try to rouse. Instead, she snuggles deeper into Adora’s warm chest, something she had done no less than half a dozen times that night. 

She’s always been a light sleeper, after all. Even before falling back into Shadow Weaver’s  _ tender _ care, she’d always found herself sleeping more in naps than full nights. 

So while she had never fallen into deep rest, it was, nonetheless, a  _ wonderful _ night. 

Sharp ears catch a conversation just outside their door.

_ “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Catra look so…so cute before!” _

Glimmer’s voice is harder to make out, but it’s clear from their tones that finding her in Adora’s bed isn’t...a bad thing. 

Her eyes close when she hears Glimmer blink back in, hearing her walk closer.

“...Adora?”

It’s gentle. Coaxing. And Catra wonders if this is how Adora woke up here often. 

\---

Adora had slept  _ incredibly _ well. For a woman who hadn’t been sleeping much at all, and suffering through nightmares when there  _ was _ any sleep to get -- a blissful night of dreamless solid sleep, was truly a gift. 

The gentle wind chimes of Glimmer’s magic filter in through her sleep, not enough to wake her but enough to register that she should probably start to wake up soon. The weight of a body wrapped in her arms, the warmth of that person and their effort to get  _ closer _ has Adora reflexively tightening her arms.

The second time she hears those chimes she properly stirs, though it is not a violent jolt like it has been both in her time at the Horde and in… recent memory. Instead she hums, her eyes fluttering open and squinting in the morning light. 

She looks down to see Catra.

Catra who is  _ still there _ . Catra who  _ stayed _ . Catra who’s going to be her wife but is currently... 

She blinks back tears, just so full of emotion so shortly after waking.

“Morning Glim,” She replies, turning her head to look over her shoulder and up at her friend, the queen.

She’s shy for a moment, worried Glimmer will be upset and quickly tucks Catra closer to her body, protective.

\---

Catra feels herself drawn closer to that chest, and in her present, bound state, it’s, perhaps,  _ surprising _ to her that she doesn’t find the motion offensive, instead staying limp and melting into Adora. 

Beneath a long ear, she can hear Adora’s heartbeat, surprisingly slow from what she heard all yesterday. Easy.

She can tell Adora is being protective, hiding her. It’s...well, it’s  _ sweet. _ Still, an old, familiar  _ playfulness _ rises in her chest.

“Morning Sparkles,” she purrs from behind that shoulder. “...any chance you could find me some clothes in my size? His most Divine Majesty of the entire universe Horde Prime seemed to have...forgotten to pack me clothes that  _ aren’t _ intended to humiliate.”

She’s aware of how thin the white cloth is. She’s aware Adora got possibly quite a look when she had stretched in the moonlight. 

\---

Adora’s heart rate doesn’t stay slow for long. Not only is she  _ sure _ Glimmer knows Catra is with her (she had hoped for a moment that maybe, just  _ maybe _ she could keep Catra hidden and avoid this... possible confrontation) but she is  _ also  _ reminded of just how thin Catra’s outfit is. How that chest is barely covered by some fabric Adora is pretty sure is one gust of wind away from tearing and that chest is  _ pressed against her _ . 

The blonde’s face turns as red as her standard jacket, reaching all the way up to the tips of her ears.

“ _ C-Catra _ ,” Adora whispers hardly, as if Glimmer can’t hear it while only a few feet away, “At least call her Queen or something!”

~

Glimmer huffs upon hearing the nickname. 

“Yea, that’s  _ Queen _ Sparkles to you, Horde scum,” The replied quip isn’t as  _ heated _ as it used to be and said with an  _ almost _ smile.

_It is true though,_ _if Prime’s choice of outfits for her is anything like what he made her wear to the ball..._

Glimmer shakes her head, the thought of seeing  _ anyone _ in such attire against their will is... stomach turning. 

She blinks away, back to Bow in that hallway before he’s had time to travel too far.

“Bow! Glad I caught you -- can you run to the tailors and tell them I’ll be grabbing some of the old outfits they’d made up for Adora? The ones in red and black that she refused to wear? Thanks!!”

She leaves the tech master alone with his task, knowing he’ll get the job done and she’ll need to explain what it was all about later, and returns to Adora’s room.

“I’ve seen to it that something will be arranged. It might not fit perfectly but if you’ll allow me to use magic on it I can adjust the size without the need to wait for the tailors. Normally I’d let them do their jobs but time is not on our side right now…”

\---

Catra rests her chin on Adora’s shoulder, meeting Glimmer’s gaze as she stays pressed into that chest.

“Queen Sparkles, then,” she purrs, watching her disappear. Those bi colored eyes fall to Adora’s bright pink face, and her acerbic smirk drops to something softer. A purr starts back up in her throat as she starts to sit up a bit more.

Within moments those ears flick up at the sound of Glimmer returning. 

“...might be a little jumpy around magic,” Catra explains softly. “...haven’t had the best experiences. I’ll try to hold still, though.”

Those fangs flash into that smirk.

“Since you asked nicely.”

\---

Adora strokes that back reassuringly,encouraging that purr while also coming to Glimmer’s defense.

“Glimmer’s magic isn’t anything like Shadow Weavers -- it's... warmer.”

The comment is soft, meant mostly for Catra to hear. Adora  _ knows _ how much magic has hurt Catra -- is  _ still _ hurting her-- but she also knows that Glimmer’s magic isn’t like that at all and... she wants to reassure her as best she can.

“But I’ll be with you the whole time and I’m sure Glimmer will be  _ extra _ careful, right Glim?”

~

It still surprises her how  _ affectionate _ they are. How Catra so easily relaxes into that shoulder and how comfortable Adora must be to touch that back so freely. Glimmer remembers being in those arms, of Adora holding her and stroking her back as she cried -- it wasn’t something Adora allowed herself to do often and to see it so casually now is... a bit jarring but in a good way.

“Yea, I promise not to mess with you or anything. I’ll be suffering through enough of a heachache ones Prime learns about all this in negotiations later -- I’d rather at least  _ one _ thing go smoothly today.”

Glimmer considers the pair. She knows Adora bathed last night, but without the Glamor covering up Catra’s injuries those pink eyes can tell just how disheveled and abused that body truly is. 

“Tell you what, I’ll have breakfast brought up -- that way you two can have enough time for a quick wash and by then Catra’s clothes should be ready.”

\---

Catra’s expression darkens slightly at the mention of Prime, and the consequences for what she’s done. She drags a deep breath and nods quietly, gesturing, as she sits up, for Adora to undo the shackles. 

But she does still smirk a little, that tail curling at the tip.

“Your magic still packs a punch, Sparkles. You make a terrifying enemy.”

It’s a compliment. A Catra style compliment. 

And when she mentions breakfast -- and a bath -- Catra’s ever ready for a comeback.

“Are you saying I’m dirty, Sparkles?”

\---

Having to leave the comfort and safety of this bed is the last thing Adora wants to do, but she’s been selfish for long enough and it’s time to face the real world again.

She sits up along with Catra, smiling at the complement she gives to Glimmer. Honestly it wasn’t something she  _ ever _ expected to hear from Catra, and she turns her head to look at Glimmer, hoping her best friend  _ understood _ the significance.

Everything would have been great if it had just stopped there, but of course, of  _ course _ , Catra had to go and make another comment. 

“Catra!”

~

Pink eyes met bicolored ones and held that gaze for a moment. Perhaps she was wrong, but Glimmer felt a moment of mutual understanding pass between herself and the former thorn in their side. The complement, while backwards, was genuine and Glimmer appreciated the acknowledgment of her skills. She had been working extra hard, training herself in sorcery without any real teacher other than her Aunt who could be… a lot. 

Her father’s old books where all she really had now that her mother was gone. 

Still, as soon as the moment began, it was over.

“I mean, you look like shit so, yea. Get cleaned up and a decent non-ration-bar meal before I have to look at you for the five hours.”

\---

Catra doesn’t verbally respond, her tail curling into an even tighter happy little arc.

Her only reply? A smirk -- and to rub her cheek on Adora’s shoulder with eyes locked on Glimmer’s face. And a slow blink at the end, for flavor. 

“I’ll do what I can, Sparkles,” she purrs. “Can’t guarantee I’ll be as shiny as you.”

Once the queen is gone however, Catra glances back to Adora. 

“...’m I really that bad?”

She stands slowly, with her back to Adora with the hopes that Adora will release her.

“...I could do a shower or something just. No baths, please.”

\---

Adora misses the slow blink Catra gives to Glimmer, but she knows that the rub is meant to be sharing their scents -- something she was used to Catra doing back at the Horde. It never really  _ meant _ much back then, and Catra always passed it off as a way to more easily find Adora in battle -- but she knows now it means something more.

A part of her is glad Glimmer and Catra’s interactions went so... smoothly? She isn’t sure if it went  _ well _ but there wasn't any yelling and she didn’t have to pull them off one another so that was a win... right?

Catra’s question draws Adora out of her thoughts and she stands up as well, a hand pressing to those wrists as she calls the Sword of Protection back to her arm as a bracer. 

“Not  _ that _ bad -- but... without Shadow Weaver’s magic covering up everything you do looks like you could use a good shower. The water is warm here though so it's a lot easier to take a long one and there’s something called  _ bubbles _ which I think you’ll like -- normally they are used in a bath but I know we can use them in the showers too!” 

She tucks an arm around Catra’s waist, unsure if the smaller woman is feeling any effects from the previous night and not wanting to risk any  _ sudden _ changes. She leads them both to the bath, a huge tub on one end, designed to both be filled for baths or to be stood in for showers. A bench built into the side of it for the purposes of sitting more comfortably if standing wasn’t desired.

\---

Catra rubs her wrists gently, feeling her heart catch in her throat as Adora’s hand wraps gently around her waist. 

“They  _ have _ kept me pretty clean since. Well, since I became  _ useful _ to them. I’m not sure a shower is going to fix the bruising.”

Still, her throat catches when Adora says  _ we _ with regards to the shower, and she’s glad Adora is mildly distracted showing her the room instead of looking at her. 

But ever the deflector, Catra smirks a little.

“ _ We?” _ she purrs softly, letting her tail curl at the tip. “You wanna shower with me, Princess?”

She starts to walk over to the tub, cool and confident, but she ends up stumbling slightly, the pain of the past few days catching up with her and she ends up sinking her claws into a nearby curtain to maintain her appearance.

“...any chance of...something for...pain? Like, with breakfast? I have a pretty high tolerance but.”

\---

Adora blinks and looks at Catra as if it was  _ obvious _ that she’d stay.

“I mean yea, you shower and I’ll stay here and make sure everything goes alright. Watch -- ” With a hand touching the tub a crystal shimmer comes into view, obscuring anything going on inside while still able to have someone pass through, “Glimmer often hangs out in here so we can keep chatting while we wash up. I need showers a lot after training and she’s figured out it's the one time I’m  _ guaranteed _ to stay still for at least a few minutes.” 

She catches that stumble, but doesn’t rush in to help as much as she  _ wants _ to. She knows Catra’s pride is already injured and to run in would just crush what was left of it into dust. However, when she mentions that she is in  _ pain _ Adora grows pale.

“Oh… oh Catra I’m sorry -- yea… we have something for the pain. I’ve… well I’ve been given a lot of tea’s to help numb pains and aches and I haven’t really  _ used _ them but I’ve tried them all at least once so I know how strong they are -- would you… want the strongest I have or..?”

\----

Catra feels her face grow a little warm when she realizes her presumption isn’t shared -- that while Adora will  _ stay, _ she won’t be showering with her.

Those ears droop, even if only  _ slightly, _ in disappointment. 

But Adora’s care, only moment later, makes something inside her squeeze, flooding with warmth. 

“Yeah,” she concedes softly. “...the strongest would be...good.”

She starts to pull at the thin white cloth, drawing a deep breath before she begins to pull it off her shoulders. 

“...they gave me something before the ball,” she says softly, resting her shoulder to the doorframe to better watch Adora. “...it wasn’t tea but.”

She chuckles softly.

“...Usually I refuse anything they give me but...I didn’t want to be in pain when I saw you.”

\---

Adora’s stomach twists into a knot -- the thought of Catra in so much pain that she was willing to endure whatever concoction Shadow Weaver created to mask the discomfort is anything but pleasant.

She hadn’t known -- hadn’t even suspected and that was the just yesterday -- 

“Wait here I’ll -- I’ll be right back.”

Adora left the room and returned in record time, a cup of warm water with a lavender tea bag scent wafting through the air in one hand, and a little glass vile in the other.

“This has the medicine in it,” the blonde explained holding up the vile as she placed the cup and saucer down, “I didn’t want to add it without showing you what I was doing.”

\---

Adora had treated her wounds since before she can remember. The familiarity of it is  _ warm  _ and so bright, something she hadn’t realized she missed.

Sure she had missed the physical care of it -- the substitute Force Captain had come to ignore her injuries when it was clear she would receive no aid for them -- but in this moment, seeing Adora holding both the cup and the vial...she realizes how much she’s missed that tender  _ care. _

The way Adora would carefully explain it was about to sting...

The way she’d ask if a bandage was too tight or too loose…

The way she’d mop up those tears and rock Catra until the pain faded.

Bi colored eyes follow Adora’s hands, without a shred of suspicion in them. She knows she’d drink anything Adora would hand her. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, by way of showing her consent for the medicine and a gratitude for the effort. “Really.”

\---

Adora smiles, nodding gently as she sets the tea cup down, twisting off the cap of the vile and carefully pouring an amber liquid into the lid as a way to measure the dose. After upending that lid into the cup, Adora uses a spoon to quick mix the contents together and then offers it to Catra gently.

“It works pretty quickly and the only side effect that I experienced was being a bit tired once it started to wear off but it lasted most of the day -- ”

She shifts, unsure for a moment before realizing she can start getting the shower ready while Catra enjoys her drink.

“I’m going to get some bubbles ready for your shower I just.. I think you’ll enjoy them. They feel nice on my skin and you don’t need to use soap since they well… they get you clean.”

\---

Catra takes the cup, cradling it in her hands. She sniffs the cup; though she can still smell the medicine, the lavender makes it at least  _ easier _ to ignore.

Adora mentions it being good for most of the day. Catra doesn’t know where the end of the day will find her. She knows there will be consequences --  _ punishments _ for escaping. Last night it hadn’t mattered. Today...it matters more. 

She’s rambling about something -- bubbles, from the sound of it. Catra’s thumb strokes over the porcelain cup as she focuses on drinking. 

Catra steadies her nerves, carefully setting the cup down as she moves to pull loose the cloth collar from those robes, carefully working herself out.

Without the glamor…

There are many scars, a notable black one climbing her back like fingers of lightning. Her chest is uncovered, ribs apparent from months of capture -- following months of tireless effort to win the war.

She’s never felt so small in her life, as the last of the robes fall to the ground. She knows she could have waited until Adora left but...somehow, in a moment of self torture, she wants Adora to  _ see. _

\---

She was so preoccupied with focusing on the bubbles -- on setting up an absolutely  _ perfect _ first shower for Catra here at Brightmoon that the shuffling of cloth goes unnoticed. 

The shower is set to a blissful hot heat, steam already rising as she adds those bubbles so that they float and drift around the tub, glittering in various colors -- when Adora finally turns around.

She’s seen Catra naked before. The Horde communal showers weren’t meant for  _ privacy _ and they had grown up together -- even shared shower stalls at times, turning their regulation five minute showers into a combined blissful ten. 

Adora has even seen Catra naked and  _ injured _ before -- having tended to her wounds when she’d come back from ‘training’ bruised and bleeding… but this.

This is so beyond any of that.

_ Catra... what have they done to you... _

She stares, face an unreadable mask, as those blue eyes take note of those ribs -- they at least were expected, Adora having held that thin frame all night -- but the  _ countless _ new scars… she makes note of them too.

The back one is the largest, but there are marks on those wrists from shackles… shackles like the one Catra asked to wear last night. There are signs she’s been abused recently too -- far too recently for Prime to have honored his word.

Adora know’s she’s been staring for too long. Knows that she’s only serving to make Catra  _ more _ uncomfortable and that-- that isn’t what she wants at all.

Blue eyes blink slow, deliberate, as they rise to meet Catra’s.

She doesn’t say a word as she opens her arms, a silent offering for a hug -- for comfort.

\---

Catra finds herself the subject of that gaze, lifting a hand to her arm to rub uncomfortably.

“...I know. I’m a mess. Some of them were from the few times you managed to land a hit on me but…”

She trails off.

“...most of the recent ones are from Shadow Weaver.”

Those ears flick back, and her focus falls to the tiled floor. She doesn’t see the slow blink...or the offer of those arms, as she moves towards the shower. Her head stays low, tail clamped against the back of her thigh.

She pauses, outside the shower, the tip of her tail swaying as she thinks about how to say what’s on her mind.

“...I know I’m not pretty...like Sparkles, or like anyone else you’re friends with here. I just...I mean, if by some chance we do end up surviving this...didn’t want you to be disappointed if we ever...you know.”

She silently steps into the large bathtub.

\---

Adora doesn’t think, she doesn’t  _ need _ to. There’s no moment of hesitation or anything to consider -- Catra needs her and that is all that matters.

So, she follows the smaller woman into the tub, clothes and all, and wraps her arms around that malnourished form. She’s careful to keep her hands from straying too far up or down, fastening her hands together with her elbows resting on Catra’s hips.

“You’re  _ beautiful _ , Catra.”

\---

Catra freezes, when those arms wrap around her.

Initially, perhaps, out of sudden fear of being grabbed from behind. But it quickly fades to...something else. Something warmer. Softer? Her breath catches in her throat. 

Fangs sink into her lips and she’s grateful for the hot water to mask the tears gathering in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. It’s everything she can do to keep from sobbing.

As it is, her eyes slowly close, and she lets her weight bear back onto Adora.

“I mean you looked good. Really good. Yesterday...you’re more muscular...and yeah, you look tired, and yeah...we’ve all lost weight in the war but you...you still looked  _ good, _ and when you looked at me...I...I just didn’t want you to...to get your hopes up about what I looked like...under…”

Her tail slowly relaxes, curling limply around Adora’s calf.

“...you gonna stay and shower then, Princess?”

She’s trying to sound flippant. But her voice is trembling.

\---

The blonde stays silent, letting Catra speak her mind as she holds her. Though the water’s spray was primarily focused on the woman in her arms, Adora knows her clothes are already far too wet to salvage -- not that she was planning on wearing them anyway.

Rather then respond, she lets her actions speak for themselves, releasing Catra long enough to grab and pull her tunic up and over her head, tossing it outside the tub with a wet  _ splosh _ . Her pants and underthings soon joined them.

“I’m glad you like my muscles but Catra... I’m not... I’m not without my own imperfections.”

She-Ra healed all but the worst of Adora’s injuries, it was true, but that didn’t mean she had gone through the war  _ unscathed _ . A pair of claw marks stood out down the length of pale skin that was her back, and her chest revealed a pink blotch of scarring from where she had foolishly taken a blast from a laser cannon head on. 

“But… yea… I’m staying… someone’s gotta wash your back afterall.”

She smiled at her own pun.

\---

Catra doesn’t turn to look, folding back into that shoulder when Adora finishes stripping. Her eyes close, tail still gently tucked around that calf, now bare…

Slowly she turns, resting a hand on that hip. Those bicolored eyes start at Adora’s face, gazing into those eyes, before slowly sliding down, to a body carved from war and attrition. 

It’s true: Adora  _ is _ scarred. Catra’s thumb runs gently across a long one down her right bicep, doubtless where a dodge failed to spare her an opponent’s blade. There’s a blotch between those breasts, and lower still - hips that jut out from poor eating habits and ribs that stand starkly with naught but muscle between them and the skin on top. 

She doesn’t want to argue; if Adora  _ still _ somehow finds her beautiful, she doesn’t want to talk her out of feeling that way. But Adora’s wounds were earned in battle - scars soldiers took  _ pride _ in. A souvenir of victory, even if that victory was just that you walked away alive.

Catra’s...so many of Catra’s scars were not won in such a way...but given by the woman who raised her, while she lay bound and  _ suffering _ to be drained of an internal magic she didn’t even know she had possessed. 

Shaking herself from her dark thoughts, she instead focuses on a more  _ urgent  _ one: this isn’t a moment they may ever have again. Catra knows the best case scenario still will result in her own death for being  _ useless. _ She’ll have to beg the queen to put a stop to this. Maybe Arrow Boy might listen. 

Someone has to.

She bends down for a bottle, and for a clean rag, wetting it and pouring something fruity smelling into her palm. And, with a brief glance at Adora, she starts to gently cleanse that torso.

\---

She forgets how to breath.

Adora wishes she could say she was strong enough to look away as Catra  _ bends _ but that would be a lie. She watches, her attention entirely captured, as that spine curves and that tail shifts to maintain balance -- its mesmerizing, but also  _ wrong _ . She shouldn’t be ogling Catra like this-- yes she was beautiful but she was also  _ more _ than just her body and it takes every ounce of strength she possesses to drag those eyes back up when Catra stands. 

The blonde frowns, confused for a moment as that rag is brought up and laid against her pale skin.

She remembers to breath as the notion that Catra was going to wash  _ her _ finally registers.

“Wait -- Catra this… I don’t need a shower I took one last night, this was for  _ you _ .”

\---

Catra pauses, those ears tilting back slightly.

She wonders if Adora doesn’t want to be touched.

“...you don’t...want this?” she asks softly, her gaze lifting from the cloth to Adora’s eyes. 

Touch to a stomach is  _ instinctively _ vulnerable, and Catra wonders if she’s triggered a more defensive response. It doesn’t bother her, the thought of it. Tensions were still high after all. 

\---

“What? No? I mean -- this is super nice and I don’t mind it but -- I was planning on offering to do this to  _ you _ .”

Adora flushes a bit, worrying distantly that they won't have much time to eat if their shower takes too long. There’s already been enough delay but-- 

“Go ahead just.. Make sure there’s enough time for me to give you a wash too okay?”

\---

Catra doesn’t take long. Neither of them have learned to be slow and sensual after years of war. But even in efficiency, Catra is  _ gentle, _ mindful of her claws. Occasionally her fingers would brush tender flesh, even as she slowly offers her own…

“...we can do it at the same time,” she concedes softly, closing her eyes as she offers Adora another bottle, already feeling weak at the idea of those blunt nails scritching gently in her scalp. “You know I don’t take long showers.”

\---

Adora knows from experience that using a washcloth on Catra’s fur is a waste of time and effort - her fingers worth far better at lathering up that soft fur then any cloth could ever hope to.

“I’ll be quick -- and don’t worry, I remember how to go with the direction of your fur.”

_ That _ was something Adora had learned young. Catra didn’t mind her fur being stroked -- so long as you did it the right way. Petting against the direction of her fur wasn’t painful so much as it generated a sensation of  _ wrongness _ \-- or at least that’s how Catra had described it when they were young.

Calloused fingers work in small circles, adding bubbles to the ones already floating around the shower. Adora was sure to get both of Catra’s arms and her shoulders but… left her chest alone before pausing at that scarred back.

“Will it hurt if I... ?”

\---

Catra goes back to gently lathering across that thinned stomach, but she pauses those warm hands lather her fur, and she almost can’t help but get distracted. Her tail relaxes, hanging limp, and her eyes go half closed at the sensation, particularly on her shoulders, near the collar still remaining on her neck.

It’s only when she pauses that Catra finally comes out of her trance.

“...not if you go light,” she whispers, quietly taking upon herself to wash more intimate areas across her body Adora refuses to touch. 

In another moment of trance, she finds her hand splaying gently across that stomach as she once more loses herself in the sensation, a low rumble of a purr escaping her throat.

\---

The thought of asking Catra to turn around makes sense-- but that would mean losing this close connection and that... isn’t necessary. 

No… Adora takes a step forward, bringing their bodies closer together without  _ quite _ being flush, the heat of Catra’s chest warming her own without  _ actual  _ contact. The nearness allows her access to that back almost completely, both hands working lightly around the dark lightning scar that follows along her spine. 

Adora can almost hear the out of tune noise of Shadow weaver’s magic emanating from the injury -- but it quiets as the soap froths up.

“I’ll stop them, and then we can be together.. Just hold on a little longer.”

\---

When Adora draws close, she takes the liberty of dropping the cloth to wrap her arms around that neck, to let Adora touch as she wishes. 

At this point she’d rather belong to Adora than to  _ them _ anyways…

She lathers up her face, while slung gently over Adora’s strong frame, letting the spray from the water melt the soap off and down her cheeks. 

She doesn’t believe Adora; moreover she cannot. But in the shower...the fantasy lives. Just as it lived in the ball, and then in the bed…

“...feels nice when you touch it,” she answers softly.

\---

She’s as efficient as she can be without being rough or going to fast… honestly Adora would rather savor this moment but they simply don’t have the time. Glimmer would be back soon with food and Catra’s clothes and the turn around time for them to eat, get dressed, and attend the meeting would  _ only _ be possible thanks to the queen’s ability to teleport. 

Reluctantly, Adora finishes, angling the water running down her arms to help rinse the soap off.

“Next time... if you’d like -- I can kiss it better. Maybe She-Ra really will end up having healing kisses.”

\---

Catra knows their time grows short. Still...she wants one last thing, knowing the next time she goes back -- the next time she falls back into their clutches -- she likely will not get the chance to see Adora again until…

Her eyes squeeze closed. 

She presses the bottle to Adora’s stomach.

“...Mane. Please…”

\---

Adora’s heart clenches at Catra’s request. The smaller woman’s mane has been a point of pride -- a point of fierce  _ protection _ for as long as she can remember. She’s washed it before but -- rarely.

Catra always preferred to do it herself, to make sure it was done  _ just right _ . 

Something about this feels… final and Adora doesn’t like it-- but she isn’t about to say no either.

“Okay…”

Gently she takes that bottle, squeezing a liberal amount of the gel into one hand.

Those battle worn hands are feather light as they reach up to that mane, gently working the hair into a thick lather, making sure to get down to the scalp, mindful of those ears. A gentle push is given, to the back of that head, a silent request to look up to keep the soap from those eyes.

\---

Catra’s eyes close at the contact, feeling those fingers massage into her scalp.

She’s a bit bruised there -- her mane had been used as a  _ handle _ more than once. But Adora’s gentle touch hardly bothers her. 

It’s...it’s nice. She wonders about all those times she pushed Adora away from washing it. All this time...it would have been nice.

Her tail tightens gently about that calf. 

“You’re good with your hands, Princess,” she purrs softly.

\---

She finishes tending to that scalp, the dark hair covered in suds and Catra stands there just inches away, eyes closed.

Before she can think better of it, Adora’s lips are pressed to that forehead, kissing it softly and pulling away.

“I’m glad you think so…” She whispers, barely loud enough to be heard over the water, “Keep your eye’s closed, I’m going to rinse the soap out for you okay?”

The second comment is a bit louder, a move to separate herself from the intimacy and focus more on the practicality and needs of a shower -- they really don’t have much time but when it comes to Catra… Adora finds herself slipping.

\---

Her eyes open, when those lips find her forehead. 

...and once again, she knows….they’re on stolen time. 

She supposes she should make the most of it.

“...he’s going to try to negotiate for a wedding in Horde Territory. Whatever you do, don’t agree to that. He’s...talked about what he wants to do with you, if that happens. Killing you...on the wedding night, that’s...well. His plan B.”

Catra rests a hand on the wall, swallowing past the growing lump in her throat as her hair rinses clean. 

“...I’m not sure what else he has planned. I can only catch so much.”

\---

"It's okay, don't do anything that will make them hurt you anymore then they already have."

Adora focuses on keeping soap from those eyes, one hand moving to stroke away some wayward suds while the other continues to massage that scalp, making sure the water runs clear.

"Prime will be outnumbered, there's no way Glimmer will agree to having the wedding in  _ any  _ Horde territory, not when the entire princess alliance will be expected to attend," Adora assures, moving to turn off the water, "theres probably some neutral third party location she has in mind…"

\---

Those eyes close again. Those fingers in her hair are a powerful calming agent, and Catra is all but helpless to comply…

“...probably too late for that,” Catra mutters, drawing a deep breath. She can already imagine the piercing  _ displeasure _ she’ll see written on that face. With a big sigh, she turns back to face Adora, letting her weakness take over in favor of resting her cheek to that shoulder.

“...what do you think is for breakfast…?”

It’s likely to be her last full meal for a while, and she finds near Adora her appetite is returning with a voracity. For so long -- for  _ years -- _ she’s had little more than a death wish when it came to life. Every reach for power a leap of faith. 

The true curse was...it’s  _ now _ more than ever that she needed that kind of courage. More than anything,  _ now _ needed to be the time that Catra stared into death’s eyes unflinching.

...but her courage was wavering, because…

She inhales quietly, smelling Adora’s damp skin and feeling a surge of something  _ else, _ something strong and  _ wild. _ The desire to  _ live. _

\---

Those hands reluctantly release from that mane to reach instead for a set of pastel colored towels Adora had fortunately remembered to collect before she got too distracted.

The large lavender color towel looks  _ wrong _ on Catra, but it is warm and fluffy and Adora wraps it tightly around those shoulders before taking the smaller light pink one to her mane, blotting the worst of it dry. 

"Probably some of my favorites, something they call pancakes, maybe waffles, but Glimmer will be sure to get you some meat."

\---

Catra curls up into the warmth of the towels, finding it necessary as the steam from the shower begins to evaporate. The care -- the  _ kindness --  _ is melting any last resistance Catra has to her. 

That head bows to Adora’s gentle hands, biting her lip at the gentleness, the  _ care _ she takes while Adora herself stands dripping wet as a result.

She steps close, pressing her now toweled body to Adora’s, to help dry her. 

“...your favorites are pancakes...got it,” she whispers, committing such an important thing to memory. 

\---

Adora chuckles, toweling off and tying the damp cloth around her middle. Wordlessly she moves to take a robe from its hook and offers it to Catra, figuring it will be more comfortable for the smaller woman to wear that then a towel while waiting for her clothes to arrive.

"I'll bet your favorite breakfast meat will be something they call sausage… or maybe bacon because it's crispy…"

Adora muses out loud a few other breakfast meats and even something known as an omelette while walking them both out of the comfort of the bath and back into her larger room.

\---

The robe smells like Adora.

When her back is turned -- when she’s busy talking about favorites and leading them out, Catra steals a moment to bring the cloth over her nose, to inhale softly. To feel her shoulders relax.

She watches with half lidded eyes when there’s a knock at the door, and against her will she smiles at Adora clad only in a towel.

Because of course...she can’t answer the door.

\---

Funny, around Catra her nakedness doesn't mean a thing. Well, it does but it's all  _ good _ things.

The thought of a stranger or a member of castle staff seeing her in nothing but a towel however -- it feels different then if it were just Glimmer teleporting in. It feels more like Bow where the fact that she is changing is understood but not  _ shared _ .

"J-just a moment!"

Adora kicks it into high gear, dropping towel and streaking across the room to her dresser to pull out the bare essentials. Her chest can be bound later -- but her usual long red tunic and some underthings are a  _ must _ .

\---

Catra smiles into the cloth of the robe when Adora  _ zooms _ across to the dresser, thankful for the cloth to hide the remaining blush despite the fact that they were  _ just _ in the shower and she’s  _ just _ seen this. 

Still… 

The familiar red is soothing to her, she finds, as she sinks back into the overstuffed bed with her tail lightly wrapped around her legs. 

It’s safe in here. She wonders...how long that will last.

~

It should not  _ surprise _ him that Shadow Weaver’s magic failed, as Lord Prime stands in front of the circle  _ intended _ to be Catra’s bed for the night. Both of their magics had been somewhat  _ impaired _ since arrival. 

Still. It does bring with it a unique set of challenges -- but perhaps that Catra spent the night _ somewhere else _ still could be useful. 

He knows she didn’t run -- too far and he wouldn’t hear her soft heartbeat, which, as of now, was still relaxed. Either she’s found herself some hole to hide in or, infinitely more likely, had wormed her way into Adora’s bed.

The latter may seem like an issue, but to Prime it only made things  _ easier. _

So starved for love, the both of them -- if Adora wanted that tortured kiss back so badly, it  _ did _ only make things easier for the ultimate wedding night. 

So he elects  _ not _ to awaken the sleeping creature with pain. There will be time soon enough for such torture, as if she truly  _ is _ in Adora’s care, Adora will be heavily distracted tending to her to be fully present during the negotiations. 

_ Let no one say I am not generous. _

Those lips pull into a grin. 

“Our little princess seems to have wormed her way into Adora’s bed, Shadow Weaver. Why has your magic failed…?”

Understandable and advantageous as it is...there is still failure to  _ punish. _

\---

The sorceress stood, fuming as she stared at the empty circle. She had drawn this confinement spell a billion times and never  _ once _ had anyone escaped. Catra had no training, her magic far to  _ wild _ to be controlled enough to break out-- and yet there in one small rune, were claw marks.

Her only hope was that Prime failed to notice that small detail. 

"I am… not sure my Lord. I can only assume that the magic from the moonstone may be… affecting my connection with the Black Garnet."

Not  _ exactly _ a lie, though not likely the truth either. Shadow Weaver knows Prime won't be pleased, so she tries to offer something that might settle his ire.

"I have made progress with that spell you asked me to research. I've nearly gathered all the pieces and the amount of blood you acquired should be more than enough to move forward…"

\---

_ That _ is enough to soothe the brunt of his anger, at least the night before. How easily the blood had flowed, easily into that mouth, onto those claws. How easily Adora had simply  _ stood _ there, allowing herself to be attacked, more concerned about placing Catra on her feet than untangling the claws from her flesh. 

Lord Prime  _ grins _ at the memory. 

“And the sword…?” he asks, that grin darkening. 

\---

She dare not breathe a sigh of relief, though behind her mask she allows a small smile. Pleased that at least for the moment his ire was quelled.

"The sword is the key, just as we thought. I can be ready for it as early as two days from today."

Normally she would be ready sooner, but with her recent failure still so fresh and the _importance_ of this going right -- she was willing to ask for more time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild warnings for more lowkey sexual pining in this chapter.

The clothes were looser than she liked, but comfortable, as they make their way down the hall. 

A heavy weight had fallen upon Adora in the moments after leaving the safety and comfort of her room, and Catra knew that moments like those would be stolen, and rare...from now until…

_ The end. _

She flinches at the thought, eyes squeezing closed. But she knows, at her core...there is an end. They don’t get this happy ending. It will just be up to Catra to ensure that the ending, at least, is in Adora’s favor. 

But when she looks up in the halls, and sees those dangling lights, she can’t help a small grin.

“...So...which one did you break?” she asks, glancing at each of the casings to spot any damage.

\---

_ Is it strange, _ Adora wonders to herself,  _ to feel so happy just walking besides her? _

Blue eyes glance to take in Catra's form, admiring the clothes Glimmer had brought to them. A bit of magic had helped them shrink the sizes to fit better, and most importantly-- Catra's tail was free to move around as she pleased.

"Oh, uh…" Adora stammers, flushing as she looks up to the ceiling, "You'll find it eventually."

The light still hadn't been replaced, much to Adora's embarrassment. The particular hallway was a tad darker even to this day.

\---

“Ohh...I see.” Catra’s tail flicks playfully. “Was that in the first day you were here, or…?”

Catra turns back to Adora with a grin, another break in that sad exterior. 

She knows the heaviness of what the next few days will bring...so why is it so  _ easy _ to shrug off?

It’s...almost like a cloak has been placed on her shoulders, where before she had been  _ shivering _ and naked, something comforting. Something  _ warm. _

Even approaching the double doors to the negotiation chambers doesn’t fully rob her of it. 

“...it’s alright,” she anticipates Adora’s worry. “...I want to be there. I...know better than anyone what kind of game he might be playing. I want to hear how he plays this.”

She pauses, outside the door, seeing the way the guards glare quietly at her. Perhaps waiting for her to tear into Adora again.

And while she might enjoy being a little difficult for Adora -- that flush across her cheeks was enough to make Catra do a  _ lot _ of things -- she doesn’t want to make Adora have to calm her own guardstaff on her behalf.

So...her hands gently clasp in front of her, and she bows her head, taking a small step closer to Adora in deference.

\---

“It was my second week, if you must know... and it's not the only thing I’ve broken while I’ve been here,” Adora offers, knowing that as much as it emberrases her, it brings some small amount of amusement to Catra and that makes reliving those moments all worth it.

The guards at the door focus entirely on Catra and a surge of protectiveness comes as naturally as breathing. 

The bangle on her wrist catches in the light as she reaches an arm around Catra’s smaller form, pulling her into a gentle one armed embrace. The guards don't seem to like it, but they can’t exactly stop Adora, and she refuses to feel bad for them. Catra hadn’t  _ meant _ it last night, she hadn’t been in control.

“Then we do this together.”

\---

Catra’s eyes close when that arm wraps around her. She sinks her teeth into her lip at the warmth, a brief shiver rising up her spine.

She reaches down -- her tail has bushed out, and for good reason.

“...He’s already in there,” she whispers softly, feeling the collar resonate. 

She had been his prisoner for six months, yet being away from him for only  _ hours _ had renewed her  _ fear _ of him. 

The doors open. 

The table is massive, yet there are  _ only _ four chairs. Catra recognizes a game when she sees it.

“Ah, Good morning Princess,” Lord Prime  _ purrs,  _ all four eyes focused on Adora. “It seems you are a few minutes early. The Brightmoon staff has brought a delightful selection of refreshments for us.”

Catra glares quietly at Shadow Weaver to his right, knowing the emperor is  _ intentionally _ ignoring her.

And when Glimmer arrives, mere  _ moments _ later, Lord Prime  _ finally _ fixes Catra in his gaze. 

“As you can see,  _ little sister, _ there is no place for you. If you would like, I can send you along with your mother -- you must be so  _ tired _ after spending a night out of your bed.”

\---

Adora says nothing for a moment, but puts her body one step in front of Catra’s, ensuring she can act as a shield, a  _ buffer _ for anything that might be thrown their way. She waits until Glimmer joins them before addressing the  _ Queen _ .

“Queen Glimmer, I’m sure we can arrange for one more chair to be brought in so my betrothed can join us for negotiations?”

A part of her hates referring to Catra as if she has authority over her -- but she knows that at this moment she needs to play by Prime’s rules to avoid any possible incidents. She just hopes Catra knows she doesn’t really  _ mean _ anything by it.

“If it is all the same to you, Lord Prime, I would prefer it if Catra stays. Her opinion is valuable to me and this wedding will be  _ our _ day and  _ our _ future. I will not have her miss out on the opportunity to speak her mind and her opinions should she want to include anything.”

\---

Lord Prime leans forward, resting his mouth between steepled fingers.

“This meeting is for land negotiations and other aspects of war. And, because of the current ceasefire, every meeting must be agreed upon by  _ both _ Brightmoon and the Horde.”

Those lips pull into a smile, and he gestures towards Glimmer.

“This meeting is to be between the two rulers -- the Queen, and regent of the Rebellion, and myself, the Emperor of the Horde, and allows for the presence of  _ one _ advisor.”

Two of those eyes slide over to Glimmer, whose hand are balled into fists in  _ helplessness _ and anger. 

He lets the statement hang for a moment. 

“Your demands  _ could _ be seen as a desire to break what  _ little _ we already agree upon, Adora,” comes that dark voice, all four eyes fixed upon her. “Is that what you want, child?”

\---

Adora lowers her head, but not her eyes, giving Catra a little squeeze of reassurance in the process. She knows she stepped out of line, but also knows a setup when she sees one. Prime needs these negotiations as much as they do.

“No, and as you are so graciously informing me of my misstep I would hope that means you wish to allow us… allow  _ me _ an opportunity for amends. I was under the notion this meeting, while primarily focusing on land negotiations as you say -- would  _ also _ include aspects of our treaty. Namely, the union between Catra and myself.”

She glances over to Shadow Weaver and then back to Prime.

“If I am wrong, then there is no need for your  _ advisor _ to accompany Catra anywhere. A guard will do.”

\---

_ Clever. _

For all the stories of how manipulatable and dense Adora was, they failed to account for this. And Lord Prime finds it more  _ amusing _ than frustrating. 

Because, after all, there is one last little humiliation he can inflict.

“You care deeply for your intended...don’t you, Adora…?”

The corner of that mouth slides upward. 

“Do you wish her to stay…?”

The unspoken intent of his words  _ hang _ thickly in the room.

_ Then beg. _

\----

She stands tall, reaching her full height, her chin no longer bowed as it should be. For several long seconds she holds her ground, two eyes locking with four. 

“You question my loyalty to her? When you yourself proposed our union? Here then, allow me to reassure you.”

She will not  _ beg _ . At least, not in how he  _ expected _ . 

Adora turns on one heel, showing her back to Prime as she falls to one knee facing Catra. In the same smooth motion she takes one of Catra’s hands, bringing those knuckles to her lips to press them there. 

“I wish to forever be at your side. From this day to our wedding and beyond I want to share my time with you, my joys  _ and _ my frustrations. I value you. I value your opinion and your knowledge. I am unsure how else to prove this fact -- but I hope my words, my  _ pledge _ will be enough. Enough to allow you to stay with me.”

\---

For a brief moment, Catra’s expression changes from guarded to  _ surprised. _

_ She had dreamed of this, long ago. In several contexts… _

_ Adora had always been stronger. Faster. More capable, in the eyes of the Horde. Just once, Catra had longed to best her, to see her put on her knees for once. _

_ Again, when fighting her as She-Ra had Catra longed to bring that woman  _ **_down,_ ** _ to send her to her knees in subjugation to Catra’s reign as second in command of the Horde.  _

_ And...long ago, long past any memory of war, she had dreamed of Adora on her knees, of that head resting in her lap, of combing her fingers through soft blond hair after a long day... _

Her body tenses, her heart pounding away in her chest, when those lips press to her knuckles, and a pledge to  _ her _ is uttered. 

A coldness seeps in, through the brief surge of surprise and alertness, through the collar. And when Catra looks up, and sees that cold,  _ awful _ smile, she fights back tears. 

“Very well,” Prime  _ purrs. _ “I would hate to see you give away too many of your vows…”

Catra’s tail remains fully bristled, when another chair is brought. She’s seated, across from Adora, but her expression remains stunned.  _ Scared. _

Those eyes fall upon her. 

_ So easy it will be, little sister. Have you already tried to warn her? Prime sees all. It hasn’t worked….has it? She will fall willingly into your arms, and I will rip her heart out with your claws. _

His voice  _ resonates  _ in her mind, spoken directly to her, as Prime himself carefully lays out a map.

“I propose this new border,” he begins, while Catra fights the urge to vomit.

\---

Hours pass as Prime picks apart every  _ inch _ of land that separates the two kingdoms. He argues tirelessly over what Adora is almost positive is every blade of grass, and that does not include the negotiations over troops. What constitutes a reasonable number of military for protection rather than war.

Glimmer does a commendable job, and Adora can’t help but see so much of Angella in her when she sits across from Prime, meeting his arguments with counter arguments. At some point between preparing for the ball and Adora’s wedding it was clear she had squeezed in time to prepare for the negotiations and the Princess of Power feels all the more useless as time goes on.

It doesn’t help that Catra looks as if she would rather be anywhere else. Perhaps she was wrong to insist Catra stay for this but… Adora feared what might happen if she  _ wasn’t _ there.

Finally, things began to wrap up in the late afternoon. They had never gotten to the topic of the wedding. 

\---

Lord Prime stands, after hours of negotiations for treaties she knows he never intends to keep, and makes his way over to Catra.

Before she can hope to escape, he smooths back her wild hair, watching her  _ startle,  _ rimrod straight at the touch. 

“Oh, little sister. You have looked unwell this whole time,” he purrs, even as she flinches to try to escape his touch. “I think a bath and an early supper will do you some good, don’t you agree?”

Catra trembles, setting her jaw tightly.

“...I would...prefer to stay with my intended -- ”

“I would  _ hate _ to see such a scandal break over such premarital liaisons, that would certainly be a stain before the wedding, little sister.”

She doesn’t look to Adora. She can’t bear the look there, especially after  _ suffering _ small telepathic comments for the past several hours. Some words. Some  _ images. _

She figures proximity made it easy. A little game he could play while bored.

She follows, silently, when he and Shadow Weaver begin to leave. But then -- just as their backs turn, Catra moves -- not for Adora, but for  _ Glimmer. _

Catra leans into that ear, nearly falling on her.

_ “Please, you have to stop this somehow, you have to call this off, he wants Adora -- ” _

\---

She is  _ exhausted _ as she rises to her feet, noting how Catra flinches away from Lord Prime’s touch, how she so softly pleads to stay with Adora.

Glimmer is only half prepared when Catra turns to her, nearly stumbles into her and whispers a desperate message into her ear.

She’s ashamed that, for a split second, she feared an attack. Feared Catra would assassinate her after all… she had expected many things but  _ this _ was not one of them.

In a split second Glimmer makes up her mind and the familiar sound of her teleporting fills the room, blinking so that she is in front of Lord Prime himself.

“Ah! Forgive me Emperor Prime, I was so caught up in our earlier negotiations I forgot to ask you for permission to borrow Catra for a few hours -- there are some wedding matters that require her presence. Old traditions I need to ensure she is familiar with and the like. You know how it goes --”

\---

The Emperor stands still as he is addressed, all four eyes focused on the queen. 

It is...intriguing, that even the Queen wants time alone with Catra. Do the bonds of ignorant friendship run so deeply that she would rather Catra be with them too? After all that Catra had done to nearly topple her own empire?

There is no harm, he thinks, sending a jolt of magic through the collar just to watch Catra bite back a response even as her tail stiffens out.

“Very well,” he says, his voice low and gentle -- saccharine, to sensitive ears. 

_ Rotten. _

“I do want to see her before bedtime, try not to keep her for long. You  _ are _ tired, aren’t you child?”

He does not wait for her reply, the look of hollowed pain and fear enough that he has made his point to the once great force captain.

Then...to Glimmer…

“And should her presence cause you any distress, bring her to me. I heard how she was responsible for the death of your mother. I would hate to see her aggravate still healing wounds…”

\---

The Queen’s face remains impressively still, despite the salt pressed to the gaping wound that was her mother’s passing. 

“I was hoping, perhaps, to address such matters and find closure to them. War is, after all, made up of casualties. If our treaty is to hold any water, we should start to repair our public relations as well as our land disputes.”

Glimmer offers a smile, though it is clear to Adora it is merely a mask slipped on for appearances sake.

“I won't keep you any longer, Emperor Prime. Please have a relaxing rest of your day.”

\---

Those slender ears catch that conversation, despite the roar of  _ agony _ overtaking any of the healing benefits of the tea she had taken earlier. Catra’s claws sink into the door frame, a frail attempt to keep her from falling to her knees.

She doesn’t look at Adora, her gaze only barely looking towards Glimmer, but not at her. Not into those eyes. 

She waits, until Prime and Shadow Weaver turn the corner. She waits for a beat after they’re gone. 

And then...she  _ runs. _

\---

Glimmer blinks, not after Catra but after the  _ guards _ .

Not knowing  _ why _ Catra ran was enough to convince them she was guilty of  _ something _ .

“Stand down! She’s just scared! Adora?!”

\---

Adora wastes no time trying to stop to explain anything. She should have expected this. Catra had been petrified for the  _ entire _ meeting, not to mention that Shadow Weaver had been looming over them on top of Prime being  _ difficult _ . 

Catra had a life long history of running, of needing space, but that didn’t mean she needed to be  _ alone _ .

“On it Glim!” Adora manages as she tears past the guards and Queen, “Catra! Wait!”

\---

Catra tears into the first empty hall she can find, cutting corners --  _ anything, _ to get away from them. All of them. She waited until Prime wouldn’t hear the commotion, surely if he heard, she would feel her body be taken away from her once again…

She’s unfamiliar with the Brightmoon castle, despite having looked at plans of it. Battle tactics, contingency plans if they ever managed to break into it. But she has no idea where she is. 

It doesn’t matter at first -- all that matters is running. But after several minutes, she finds herself alone.

A door is open to her right -- or rather, a door  _ opens _ to her right. She hears the low  _ creeeek, _ yet sees no one. No one and nothing. 

_...come in here. _

It’s not a voice...more like a call. And...Catra obeys it. 

It’s a small room, a tea room, and Catra finds herself on her knees in front of an inexplicably burning fire. 

\---

Adora’s heart beats loudly in her ears as she races down the halls, chasing Catra’s shadow and footsteps. 

Catra has  _ always _ been faster then her, even when they were both Cadets. Adora could never beat her on foot, at least not when Catra  _ wanted _ to win. 

It is only thanks to Catra’s ill treatment in recent months that Adora even manages to keep up with her, albeit still lagging entire hallways behind at times. 

Just as Adora thinks Catra might be slowing down-- she disappears. 

The sounds of footsteps just  _ vanish _ .

“Catra?” Adora calls, wandering slowly down the hall. 

Silence.

“Glimmer?” She tries instead, wondering if the Queen had by chance gotten involved after sorting out the guards and teleported to them.

No reply.

Adora slows, something about this hallway doesn’t feel right anymore. She turns, and realizes -- a door is missing. Where it once stood is just an empty wall.

Curious, Adora approaches.

\---

It is when Adora comes close to the door that the sense of  _ wrongness _ reaches a fever pitch. From a pot nearby, the once innocuous plant begins sprouting thorns, vines moving towards Adora. Not a threat -- not  _ yet --  _ but a warning all the same.

_ Stay. Away. _

\---

She stumbles back into a fighting stance, expecting those vines to lash out and strike like she has seen Shadow Weavers tendrils do.

Her hand moves to touch the gauntlet on her arm, the Sword of Protection's current form -- but stops just shy of summoning She-Ra.

"Catra?!" 

Adora calls once more, staring at where the door  _ should _ be.

"It's alright! I'm here!"

\---

It is the motion towards the weapon, the  _ smallest _ aggression that turns those slowly creeping vines swift and  _ thornier, _ winding across the hallway as if meaning to  _ block _ it off. 

The lowest growl sounds, omnidirectional. A  _ fury. _

_ Leave. Now. _

\---

“Who are you?! Why do you want Catra!”

Their magic sounds different from Shadow Weavers and Glimmers -- something almost like the Whispering Woods or the Sword of Protection -- the notes  _ old _ and powerful. 

Threatening. 

“I’m not going anywhere -- but we don’t have to fight…”

Adora eyes those vines, that blocked wall, and takes a step backwards. She lifts her hand off the gauntlet and waits. 

\---

Closer to where the door was, there’s a more direct growl -- and there, two glowing red eyes watch Adora  _ closely. _

Coiling up along the wall, a  _ dragon, _ similar to the one on Adora’s bangle, stares down at her, slowly revealing itself without moving. Framing where the door would be, two hand-like paws.

It gives a huff. Another  _ furious _ growl. Slowly that body winds its way down, head held back, cobra-like and  _ threatening. _

Yet it is clear it is not  _ attacking: _ that stare, that growl, and the steadily built wall of vines indicates a  _ defensive _ intent, not to attack. 

Those red eyes slowly fall down from Adora’s face to her arm -- to the gauntlet, lips exposing sharp fangs. 

Yet a moment later, that gaze shifts down slightly, to the bangle. And while that growl, that snarl, doesn’t fully dissipate...it  _ does _ soften slightly.

\---

Blue eyes go wide as a  _ dragon _ reveals itself before her.

A part of her wants nothing more than to scream in excitement -- but there’s no doubt doing so  _ now _ would be ill advised. Besides, Catra is still missing and this dragon likely holds the answers she seeks.

Adora takes another step back, her arms falling loosely to her sides, palms open. 

“I don’t know why you’re here but -- you’re protecting Catra aren’t you…?”

\---

The dragon looks...sad.

The fury fades, as that form shrinks down, from the magnificent, long form of a dragon, to something more cat like. 

They gaze up at Adora, then slowly press their head into the wall and slip through, clearly signaling her to follow.

The creature disappears, inside the tiny room -- invisible as they move over to a small figure curled in front of a gently burning fire in the hearth. Carefully, they lower their muzzle, nuzzling into that soft hair.

“Mm…”

Catra stirs slightly, and keen eyes might catch the vague outline of a cat shape standing beside her, ready to steady her.

“...A...adora?” 

Catra doesn’t do much more than lift up to her elbow off the soft fur rug. Her face is still pale, eyes haunted...but something seems less  _ dire _ about her expression.

\---

Adora follows, bringing up a hand to touch the illusionary wall and pressing. There’s a moment of brief resistance, before the surface gives and her hand passes through.

The rest of her quickly follows, once she knows it is safe. Later she will wonder at the  _ strangeness _ of the sensation, but now she only has eyes for that prone form laying beside the fireplace. 

“Catra!” 

She makes to close the short distance at a run but stops short, remembering those vines and the dragons' angry growl. 

“I’m going to come over to you now, is that okay?”

\---

Catra finally lifts onto the side of her legs and arms. Those tired eyes watch Adora...a naked longing in her own, and such a sadness.

But she feels a presence next to her, finding herself gazing into calmed, blue eyes. A trembling hand lifts, resting on the top of the creature’s head as it bows gently towards her.

“...Is this...something you summoned…?” she asks softly, to Adora, responding a moment later when, in a small vocalization, Catra hears as language. 

_ Rest on me. _

She draps an arm limply over the creature’s shoulder, burying her face into their neck.

“...I think it broke Shadow Weaver’s magic last night. I just never got a chance to see it.”

\---

“No…” Adora replies, just as soft, “But it seems to want to protect you.”

Carefully she moves forward, arms relaxed at her sides and walk deliberately slow and measured. No sudden movements, no direct eye contact. She will be submissive if that means this creature will allow her access.

_ Finally _ she kneels, still an arms length away just to be safe, and breaths out a sigh of relief. 

“I guess we should thank it for that… last night was…” Adora feels her face grow warm and she coughs, changing the subject, “They can disrupt Shadow Weaver’s magic?”

\---

Catra moves, slowly. Stiffly. Her body aches as she scoots from where she had curled up over to Adora’s knelt form. 

She pulls her legs under her, biting her lip before she lifts both hands to that face, before she leans in for a soft -- but  _ desperate -- _ kiss. 

Her thumb softly moves along the shell of Adora’s ear before she pulls away, slowly resting her head against that shoulder.

The creature behind her vocalizes softly, a series of meows, mows, and mews.

“...they...they say they can only do some things. Small things. They have...they have been...asleep for...a very long time.”

\---

Adora leans into the kiss and she is unable and  _ unwilling _ to hold back the soft noise of bliss that escapes her. Blue eyes close, her body relaxing all at once. It feels as if she can finally  _ breathe _ again.

She doesn’t protest as Catra pulls back and then away, but there is a sense of disappointment -- especially when that thumb leaves her ear wanting for  _ more _ . Still, she pushes the longing down deep and brings her attention back to the reality of  _ an actual dragon _ being with them right now. 

“You can understand them?” Adora asks, tilting her head curiously at the sounds that are being made.

\---

“...yeah,” Catra answers softly, turning to look at the creature. “I guess I can….”

There’s another small set of mrrrs and mows, and Catra lifts her hand to Adora’s neck, to stroke softly while she listens.

“...Their name is...Melog….”

The creature moves forward, bumping their nose against Adora’s wrist, against the bangle.

“They are...the guardian of Thaymor?”

Catra’s expression darkens a bit, her heart climbing into her throat -- before the creature slowly lays their head down into her lap. 

Another small vocalization. One Catra doesn’t translate right away. Tears pool in her eyes, when they finish, when they close their own.

“...t-they...say I...belong to them.”

\---

Adora leans into that touch, savoring the moment of contact. These moments make every hour spent in that meeting worth it -- she just hopes Catra feels the same.

“Melog…” she repeats, stroking that scaley furred head when it is offered and smiling softly, “it's nice to meet you.”

The Guardian of Thaymor... Adora had heard only rumors. Stories from Glimmer and Bow, and a foggy memory of a puppet show at that first festival that may have referenced something about this. She would need to know more -- but that would have to be added to her ever growing list of things to get to.

“You belong to them... then that means…”

\---

“..yeah I...I guess...not everyone wants to see me run through.”

Adora leans into her hand and it makes something inside her twist unbearably. She leans back in, both hands softly resting on that neck, her thumbs massaging just under those ears…

She steals another kiss. Tears well in her eyes as she tries to block out what Prime said, the things he showed her. 

Her teeth gently pull on Adora’s lip, so  _ careful _ not to resemble that sadistic act that had been the end of their engagement party. Instead it’s gentle,  _ pleading… _

“...he...he told me things,” she whispers, a brief pause in the kisses she craves more than  _ breathing -- _ “...He...he told me how easy it will be to kill you, how he’s going to make me do it. H-he showed me things, i-in my mind...d-during the meeting -- ”

She breaks off her own whisper with another kiss, and another. 

“P-please, I’ll do  _ anything _ not to let that happen but...just...let me have this.”

\---

_ Not everyone wants to see me run through. _

The words hit Adora like a cannon blast, the breath knocked out from her one moment and sucked back in as those lips return to continue where they had left off.

She sits up straighter, following those teeth as they pull. Completely unafraid that they may once again be used to cause pain. 

Still, as Catra informs her of what Prime did... what he said and made her  _ see _ . 

“You won't…” She assures, a hand coming to cup that cheek, brushing away a tear with her thumb. “We’ll find a way to break you free of his control... I promise… Nothing like what he showed you will happen.”

Her free hand moves to find one of Catra’s, interlocking their fingers and giving it a squeeze. 

\---

A noise escapes Catra’s throat, when those fingers interlock with her own. Her cheeks are wet with her tears, as she continues the kiss.

With her free hand, she softly strokes the corner of Adora’s mouth with her thumb.

“...sore?” she asks softly, mindful of her fangs and desperate to know if Adora is masking her pain for the sake of this moment. 

It seems  _ desperately _ important to let Adora know it’s alright to say whether something feels good or not. 

“...I never want to hurt you. Never again…”

\---

Her body feels warm and tingly -- an unfamiliar combination that just feels so  _ good _ . It takes every ounce of self control not to squirm for fear that Catra might mistake the action for something bad.

Still her muscles tense and release, controlled movements to help sooth the urge.

She focuses on kissing that thumb tip.

"Not at all," Adora breaths, her voice sounding different to her own ears. A good different, "you?"

\---

Catra can feel the stifled  _ squirm _ beneath her, the way Adora’s fingers tighten rhythmically, as those thighs squeeze ever so slightly.

Her hand, not caught by those fingers, slides down to one of those thighs, resting on it. 

That Adora  _ isn’t _ sore makes Catra  _ gently _ bite that lip, playfully. She’s so careful not to go too far, to bite, as she’s certain tasting Adora’s blood again would make her vomit.

Her own body is stiff,  _ sore _ . Her throat aches from being choked by the collar. Her muscles are sore from sitting for hours, aggravating old injuries, ill treated bruises. All Catra has known for months is a steady haze of pain.

She doesn’t lie to Adora -- but she  _ does _ elect not to answer, at least not verbally.

Because she knows this moment is  _ over _ when Adora realizes how bad it is...despite how desperately Catra wants  _ more. _

She knows they can’t hide in this little room forever -- especially not since Glimmer said she wanted some...time with her, whatever that means. Whatever painful conversation there is at the other end of that, whatever guilt Catra will have to relive.

\---

A sound escapes her as those fangs pinch her lower lip -- something mixed between a sigh and a whine. She  _ wants _ this to continue, but she knows Catra’s silence means she’s hiding  _ something _ .

And that something is likely pain.

“Catra…” she whispers, pulling back and away, “You’re avoiding the question.”

Adora squeezes Catra’s hand gently, and something changes in those blue eyes as she searches for signs of pain in that face.

\---

Adora is  _ easily _ distracted -- or at least, Catra  _ thought _ she was. She bites down on the inside of her lip, those ears drooping to the side at Adora’s chastisement. 

Melog makes a similarly admonishing noise, their tail flicking gently and thumping on the ground. 

She avoids that blue gaze, knowing Adora is now actively  _ searching. _ She swallows back more tears.

“...does it...really matter? I can handle it. It’s not like he’s choking me _ now.” _

Those hands fold in her lap, those slim shoulders hunching slightly. 

“You can...give me tea, but in the end it won’t matter. The medicine wears off when I’m near him. It just seems like wasted effort…” 

Her voice is quieted. Less  _ sure,  _ like she’s trying to convince herself more than she is trying to convince Adora. 

She lifts a hand, to rub at her neck, to rub under the  _ collar,  _ a clear attempt to self soothe.

“...besides. Doesn’t Sparkles want to talk to me about...what I did?”

\---

Catra’s attempt to self sooth makes Adora’s heart  _ ache _ and she leans in for a brief kiss. She knows it won't  _ actually _ help with the pain but she wishes it would. 

Now that she’s looking, she can see all the signs of exhaustion and pain. All the little hints that are so easy to overlook when Catra doesn’t want them to be seen. 

“It matters to me,” Adora replies before her face grows a bit more stern, “And if he  _ was _ choking you right now I’d find him and make sure to give him four black eyes.”

The Princess of Power quiets for a moment, considering the next course of action and digesting the new information Catra has provided about Prime’s influence on her.

“You’re… half right. Glimmer  _ does _ want to talk, but I doubt it's about what you did while you were still a part of the Horde. Besides, maybe she’ll know of some way to help manage your pain when you’re near Prime, or -- or maybe it will help her figure out what sort of spell it is that keeps that collar on your neck?”

Adora shakes her head. Truthfully she isn’t sure what Glimmer had planned, but it  _ has _ to be better then going back to Prime. 

“We’ll figure this out Catra, I promise.”

\---

Catra makes a small noise at the brief kiss, catching herself from following Adora when the taller pulls back again.

She  _ does _ laugh at the threat though, lifting a subtly trembling hand to that cheek. Her thumb sweeps softly along Adora’s cheek.

Her smile fades -- her hand withdrawing when Adora speaks of the Queen. Her tail wraps gently around her leg.

“...She was nice enough this morning but...I’m finding it hard to believe your friends approve of….this.”

Somehow that...matters. She lost Adora to the former princess, to the archer. For so long she resented them for  _ stealing _ Adora...all while knowing Adora chose them. 

She can’t express the desire to be accepted into that group. It seems simultaneously beneath her and impossible. 

“I guess we can’t hide here forever…” she whispers.

\---

“That’s probably largely my fault I... didn’t exactly make my feelings for you known,” Adora admits trying and failing to hide the small frown as Catra’s hand leaves her own, “You know how I’m not always the best at... realizing this sort of thing? Well, I buried everything deep enough that it wasn’t until you were...  _ gone  _ that it hit me. And it wasn’t until Prime’s letter that... that they even suspected anything. I think my friends are just starting to come to terms with it is all.”

Adora remembers how critical Queen Angella was of her at the very beginning, how the monarch almost didn’t let her stay for fear she was still  _ sympathetic _ to the Horde’s cause -- but that was years ago and Glimmer  _ knew _ Adora was loyal. Besides, she had promised she’d help. 

“I’ll be with you the whole time Catra, and I think Glimmer’s going to be able to help you. Help  _ us _ .”

\---

Catra slowly stands, using Adora to climb her way back up. Once on her feet, she lowers a hand to the warm presence beside her, fingers softly stroking along that muzzle. 

“...thanks...for everything. Stay safe...you know? They’re…”

Catra trails off when that head nuzzles her thigh, biting her lip when the spirit turns invisible on its way towards an open window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we finished writing the main body of this story a few days ago, so the chapters will come out as I have the will to edit them & draw some cover art for them! From here till the end is looking like _around_ four chapters, but that's variable depending on how we break it up AND doesn't include a sizeable epilogue we're now writing.


	11. Chapter 11

Glimmer is  _ pacing,  _ her body tense and, for the third time in a minute, she cards her fingers through her hair. 

“They’re just  _ gone, _ Bow! What if Catra ran? What if Adora runs after her. What happens if -- ”

\---

Bow stood nearby, ready to offer Glimmer the hug he knew she’d need the minute she was done panicking. Years of experience told him he just needed to wait a little while longer and things would sort themselves out. Probably. Hopefully.

Truthfully, they were  _ both _ going to need that hug but he just had to remain calm.

“Glimmer you  _ know _ Adora -- she won't just run away. And even if she does we’re the Best Friends Squad! We’ll go after her and bring her home, but it’s too soon for us to panic. You told me Catra seemed really scared so she probably just went after her and is --”

He stopped as the doors to Glimmer’s room opened revealing, to his immense relief, both of the women they had been so worried about. 

\---

“Adora!” 

Bow and Glimmer cried in unison, causing Adora to wince. She could hear the relief and worry in their voices, and instinctively curled an arm around Catra, bringing her in closer.

“Hey guys, sorry about disappearing like that we just --” Adora stops short.

She didn’t know what to say. She could try to lie; dismiss the event as insignificant and play it off as no big deal but it was so  _ obvious _ that wasn’t the case. The truth was... complicated though, and something told her it was best not to mention Melog, even to her friends.

“-- we needed a minute.” 

\---

It is fortunate that Adora keeps Catra settled close, because without that arm...she probably would have hung back a few paces.

Those ears droop, when she sees the worry on those faces, and for the first time, Catra really begins to understand that the intensity of her feelings for Adora...may not be unique. 

It’s both encouraging...and perhaps invalidating, and her tail flicks anxiously at her calf. 

Some of the strength and courage she had received from their brief reprieve fades. Catra feels herself gently tugging backwards despite that strong, encouraging embrace. 

\---

Glimmer shares a look of uncertainty with Bow, both of them know Adora is keeping something from them, but prying wouldn’t do them any good. Catra’s still obviously spooked and... honestly Glimmer couldn’t blame her.

That was one of the reasons Glimmer had all but begged Prime for a moment alone with the woman. Brightmoon’s young Queen had genuinely wanted to try and mend some of those still-charred bridges. For Adora’s sake if nothing else.

“Hey, that’s alright! Glimmer was telling me it was a pretty intense meeting and everybody needs a break!”

Bow’s ability to smoothly handle any situation with grace and charm was something Glimmer loved about him, and she was grateful to hear his soft voice as he closed the gap between himself and the couple.

_ Couple. _

The thought still threw her sometimes. How had she missed something like that? What  _ else _ could she have missed?

Pink eyes move from the young man to Adora and finally to Catra. 

“Bow? Why don’t you and Adora go get some paper and we can show Catra how to make something with them? Catra? Would you mind coming to help me make tea?”

\---

She can feel the tension in the room, and maybe it’s all the more naked when that arm moves to leave her frame. Her eyes stay on Glimmer, when she’s called to help for tea, glancing back briefly to Adora.

No sense in being a coward. 

Slim shoulders square. She pulls a soft breath, and then begins to close to gap to the queen. 

“...hey Sparkles,” she tries softly, her voice low. How far away this morning feels, when she was lazily draped in Adora’s arms, purring over her shoulder to the queen. That mirth feels long gone. 

Ignoring the wave of exhaustion that washes over her, she waits for instruction, hands gently clasped in front of her.

\---

“I thought we agreed it was  _ Queen _ Sparkles to you?” Glimmer quips, the smile on her face almost reaching her eyes, “But that’s alright, Sparkles will do while we’re not around the guards.”

She moves, expecting Catra to follow, deeper into her room where a small cabinet filled with expensive looking cups and saucers are kept neatly behind glass. Next to it is a shelf full of small containers full of various herbs and blends of loose tea neatly labeled.

“Soo -- what’s your pain level like? Do you need something to help ease it again?”

\---

While Queen Glimmer is a stranger...Catra  _ does _ know her. She was captured once by her, back when she a princess, and Catra a Force Captain. It wasn’t so much a focused strike as incidental. And while Catra is sure Glimmer would have enjoyed beating her up, it all seems so...distant now. Almost playful. 

She’s found that both she and Glimmer could match each other for cunning, both in one to one combat and in warfare strategy. Having such a foe...is nearly intimate. 

Catra plays off leaning against the wall as nonchalance rather than an expression of weakness, but when Glimmer asks what her pain is, those ears flick back, and a hand rubs self soothingly on her arm.

“...it’s..”

She doesn’t want to admit she’s in pain (she’s  _ always _ in pain), and being in the presence of someone who had for so long been an  _ enemy _ makes admitting any form of weakness hard. 

Even so, no tea in the world can cure the bigger wound -- time is growing short, to when she will fall back to those claws, to torture, again. 

So Catra doesn’t answer, in terms of pain. Instead…

“...Could...I sit somewhere…?”

For a moment those eyes look  _ nervous,  _ a fear resonant that such a confession will be met with cruelty.

Still...she asks. Perhaps out of self punishment...but so too...perhaps out of a show of vulnerability.

One of her own choosing.

\---

The Queen softens at the request. 

The Catra she used to fight never  _ asked _ for anything -- merely took it. She was  _ insufferable _ that way, but it also made her quite the opponent on the battlefield. Never needing permission, never having to worry about how her actions might come across -- Glimmer had envied that at times.

But now, she  _ asks _ , in such a small voice that its clear their usual back and forth wont... work. Not like it used to.

“Yea, of course. Hold on.” 

The sound of windchimes filled the air as Glimmer teleported to the far side of the room and returned nearly instantaneously, bringing with her a seat for Catra. One with a soft cushion, though it was impossible to tell if Glimmer had selected it on purpose or if simply  _ every _ chair in her room came with that as an option.

Glimmer hesitates then, unsure if her next choice of words would be appreciated or be seen as an  _ insult _ \-- still, she chooses to try.

“It's okay to ask for things here -- It took Adora a long time to understand that too.”

\---

The chair she brings is nice, and Catra can’t help a small smile as she climbs onto it, turning it slightly so the back faces Glimmer and gently draping over it with a relieved sigh. 

“...thanks,” she whispers softly, her cheek resting on her forearm.

But at the soft encouragement, those ears lift slightly, slitted eyes meeting pink.

“...it’s...not that easy,” she confesses softly, “...you can’t give me what I want most.”

She breathes a very soft sigh and presses her eyes down onto her arm, to block the light, to soothe an oncoming headache.

\---

Glimmer moves to select an herbal blend, one that promotes calmness and relaxation. They’re all stressed and maybe... maybe this will help them at least  _ pretend _ that all of this is normal.

She sets a kettle down on a small magical flame, and returns her focus to Catra as the water starts to heat up.

The Queen closes the distance between them, reaching out to gently touch Catra’s shoulder.

“I believe you…” Glimmer says, casting a glance over to where Adora and Bow have begun making what appears to be more paper dragons, “What you said earlier… I believe you but I need to know  _ how. _ ”

\---

Old nerves die hard, and Catra flinches slightly when that hand rests on her shoulder. Despite the kind touches Adora’s given her...the fear of being touched has a long way to go to vanish.

In an attempt to cover that brief knock of weakness, she follows the queen’s gaze to Adora and Bow, feeling her heart swell gently watching those fingers move in practiced, repetitive motions. Down. Diagonal. Crease. Flip. 

“....He can...possess me,” she answers, using Adora’s motions to ground her.

_ Cross. Halve. Crease. Crease again... _

She angles her jaw up without turning her head, wincing a bit as she pushes at the smooth silver band locked around her throat, shifting it past flesh made raw from the many punishments Horde Prime saw fit to give. 

“...his plan is to wait until after the ceremony...t-to…”

Against her will, tears spring to her eyes, and she swallows painfully when Adora shows the newly made dragon to Bow.

Those blue eyes so full of joy...so innocent…

“I-I already told her but she…”

Catra blinks hard when a tear startles her by splashing on her arm, willing away the sudden display of weakness.

\---

_ But she loves you _ .

The words go unsaid, but their weight hangs in the space between them. 

Glimmer watches Adora triumphantly hold up a near perfect paper dragon up to show Bow. The young man’s smile brings the edges of her own lips up and the  _ warmth _ she feels --

“I understand…” Glimmer whispers, the hand still on that shoulder squeezing reassuringly. 

Pink eyes finally pull away from watching her best friends and again come to rest on Catra.

“I won't let anything happen to them. I’ll stop this Catra. No matter what.”

Glimmer swallows, the promise somehow sour as the implication of what that means settles onto her shoulders.

“The magic, is it Primes? Shadow Weavers?” 

\---

Catra slowly melts back onto the back of the chair, her body’s fear evaporating under that hand. 

“...Prime’s, though Shadow Weaver is more than capable of using it as a focus. It...allows the magic to be channeled directly...so she uses her own magic and it...flows through it. They both...enjoy such things.”

She lets the statement hang for a moment, those ears drooping gently. 

“....the possession is Prime’s. Some of his closest generals have these collars fit, and now I understand why. It’s so they can’t fight back.”

A lone claw traces the elegant patterning on the fabric of the chair.

“I...get the sense it taxes a great deal of his strength to cast it, otherwise I’m sure he would have taken great pleasure in simply reducing me to his puppet for the length of our stay. He...hides it, but he is tired after he possesses me.”

Not nearly so tired as she, but she decides not to add this. 

“...the...problem is...I didn’t...think Adora would want me. The thought of...being together with her is…”

She bows her head to avoid showing her tears again.

“...I’m selfish now. I can’t let go. It….really is the perfect trap.”

\---

“That was  _ him _ at the ball…” Glimmer hisses, realization hitting her all at once. 

Suddenly everything is starting to make sense. It had seemed almost unbelievable that the Catra whom they had fought for so many years would change so  _ drastically _ . It wasn’t that Glimmer didn’t believe Adora, she knew her friend truly thought Catra had  _ changed  _ \-- but there was still a part of the Queen that couldn’t believe it was possible.

That part of her was no more.

Catra’s admission of wanting Adora. Of wanting her so badly and never expecting it in return. Being ready to die. Glimmer didn’t need a truth spell to know its validity.

Never in a million years would Brightmoon had ever expected the young Queen Glimmer to hug Force Captain Catra in her own bedroom, but here they were.

“Don’t give up. Not yet. We still have time, Catra, and you aren’t as alone as you think.”

\---

The hug is warm. Catra’s eyes widen at the sudden offer of physical affection, but it’s  _ warm, _ and good...and what she needs.

Her arms gently wrap around that back, and her cheek rests to that shoulder. 

“Y-yeah. He was...furious, so he punished me. Punished us both.”

Slim shoulder shiver at the memory, of feeling her teeth tear into unresisting flesh…

At the comfort, Catra inhales softly, smelling the perfumes, the soaps, the queen wears.

Bow gently elbows Adora, when he sees Catra melt into the queen’s shoulder, the smile across his lips growing more and more vibrant.

“...new member of the best friends squad?” he asks, taking a fresh sheet of paper to start on a new dragon. 

\---

“Yea... I really hope so,” Adora replies, watching as he starts a new dragon while she finishes up her own, adding it to a small pile of multicolored paper creations.

The admission is too soft and far away for Glimmer to hear it, but she notices the way Catra’s ears twitch, as if catching that snippet of conversation. 

Slowly, the Queen pulls back and out of that hug, attention returning to that silver band around the column of Catra’s throat. She reaches out, as if to touch but stops herself just short.

“May I.. touch it? It might help me figure out what sort of magic was used to create it.”

\---

Catra relaxes over the back of that chair with a low sigh at Adora’s far away confession, feeling an odd sense of warmth. She had wanted Adora, of course...but the idea of being accepted by her friends…

“Oh...yeah,” Catra whispers softly, lifting her head and angling her jaw so the queen can see. 

“He...put it on with some ritual. It doesn’t have a latch or anything...just a solid band.”

She was barely aware for that part of her...transformation, and like many other parts of her transformation...it hurt.

\---

With a nod Glimmer allowed her hand to close the distance, brushing her fingers against that band of silver--

_ Monstrous. _

That was the only word that came to mind before Glimmer felt her magic being sucked into the abyss, the collar attempting to  _ drain _ her while wracking her body with an electric charge that was the character move of Shadow Weaver. She’d been an idiot to try something without first establishing wards but she hadn’t expected a simple  _ touch _ to generate such a response. 

A pink bubble surrounds her and Catra with a thought, a defensive spell, meant more to protect those outside it rather than those within. She barely gets it up before black hand-shaped tendrils of magic begin to lash out all around them, seeking  _ more _ . 

It's a wonder Catra is even  _ alive _ , let alone able to resist -- but this much explains why the spell is so taxing for Prime. The deal he must have scaled to harness this… 

Glimmer knows she must let go, but that electric charge has her hand gripping tight.

Pink eyes seek out Catra’s as the Queen comes up with a loss for what to  _ do _ .

\---

The sudden  _ pain _ makes Catra cry out, and for just a  _ moment _ she fears that Prime is torturing her again, for daring to find a moment of  _ peace -- _

But it’s not focused, and unlike those focused images she was forced to see earlier, she sees...something else.

_ A man, with searing magenta eyes, glaring up at Prime -- _

_ A curl of hatred at his resistance, his insistence on allegiance -- _

_ His  _ **_love --_ **

The brief imagery fades and Catra finds herself gazing into desperate pink eyes, wide with pain. Twitching in her own anguish, Catra reaches to shove herself away, to pull those fingers free from her collar and collapse to the cold marble floor below.

\---

Glimmer stumbles back and falls to one knee, magic rising off herself and Catra like smoke.

“Catra!”

“Glimmer!”

Bow is already at her side, worry clear as he checks her over for signs of obvious injury. She knows he’s looking for something he can  _ fix _ but this sort of magic isn’t so easily treated. 

Adora is doing much the same for Catra by the looks and sounds of it.

“I-I’m okay.” 

Bow’s face tells her he isn’t convinced.

“I was  _ stupid _ but I’m alright... just drained. Catra broke us apart before they took too much.”

Glimmer hadn’t felt this way since before her Mother’s passing -- before her connection with the Moonstone was the only one. She’ll likely need to rest in its rays like she did when she was a kid just to recharge... but that magic would have killed a lesser mage and she knows that is not an accident.

\---

Catra struggles to regain consciousness, her claws digging into the marble. She can feel Adora, vaguely hear her, but her body is numb, her senses dulled…

“Sparkles --” she whispers, her volume undermining the  _ desperation _ in her tone. She struggles in Adora’s arms, desperately trying to sit up, to see...

She’s  _ terrified _ she’s just killed the queen, her blood turning to  _ ice _ at the thought. 

“Sparkles --!”

She trails off when the figure finally comes back into focus, and Catra slumps weakly into Adora’s arms. Tears stream down her cheeks.

“I...I didn’t know it would do that, I’m  _ sorry --” _

\---

“Catra… shh its okay… no one is blaming you…” Adora reassures, holding Catra up half cradling her in her lap.

Glimmer shares a look with Bow and she could  _ kiss _ him for his understanding as he helps her limp the small distance so that all four of them could be together in one close group.

“She’s right Catra... I should have known better. I had assumed if I wasn’t trying to cast a spell I’d be fine but it just  _ knew _ .”

The Queen shakes her head, the implications of that not sitting well with her at all -- but that was besides the point. 

For the second time that evening, Glimmer reaches out to hug her former enemy, along with one of her best friends. 

She feels Bow join them moments later, the hug somehow  _ complete _ in a sense that she hadn’t known it wasn’t before. 

\---

The hug is soothing. Comforting. She wouldn’t have thought being around both of Adora’s friends would engender such feelings of belonging and warmth...yet…

Her arms wrap gently around Glimmer, the guilt fading for something more...profound. 

“...I’m glad you’re alright,” she confesses softly, the ice in her blood thawing when she can see the queen is -- or will be -- okay. She squeezes gently, pressing her forehead into that shoulder.

And…

A faint purr begins to rumble in her chest. 

\---

That rumble surprises the Queen... in all their years of fighting together, of capturing one another, she can not recall ever hearing Catra  _ purr. _

“I might not be as tough as She-Ra but I can take a hit or two... I’m just sorry you got hurt in the process. I was  _ stupid _ but -- I did get a few ideas.”

She hopes her attempt at brushing off the incident is wise. Adora seems to do it all the time and so Glimmer hopes it's what Catra would prefer. 

Bow pulls away first, clapping his hands together.

“Alright. No more magic stuff for now. I’m going to go get us all some ice cream and when I come back I want a nice.  _ Simple. _ Best friends squad hangout session. Okay?”

\---

Tired, slitted eyes watch the archer leave the room, and -- still slumped against Adora --

“...Ice cream?”

She’s well aware that outside the Horde are any number of confections she has little experience with. The food she’s received here within her time alone has brought more unique flavors to her palette than any of the years she spent as a Force Captain. Even with all the power in the Horde...the most exotic offerings were generally higher quality meats and alcohol.

She scoots up a bit, to let her head rest on Adora’s shoulder while still looking forward, to Glimmer. 

She can see the queen is still in pain, but she seems well enough to brush it off and conceal. It’s relieving, both that it doesn’t seem  _ too _ serious...and that she isn’t  _ hated _ for it. 

All this time? Was it really that simple…? 

Could she...have had this sooner?

\---

“Oh Catra you’re going to  _ love _ ice cream! It's like... like…” Adora struggles for a moment, grasping for words to try and convey something similar back in the horde but there wasn’t. “Well for start it's cold, and it's meant to be cold -- like the Snow Kingdom cold but it's sweet like the cream you put in tea. It has so many different flavors too, my favorite is strawberry and my second favorite is something Bow calls Confetti Cake ice cream? It's cake flavored ice cream!”

Glimmer sits back, allowing Adora to excitedly babble on about the treat Bow was going to bring them. Content to watch her best friend light up with excitement and joy, while she quietly tries to decide which scrolls she’ll need to review that might help her determine the curse placed upon Catra’s collar. 

\---

Cradled in that arm, Catra sees Adora’s expression light with excitement and warmth, attempting to describe something that’s brought her joy.

Catra feels her heart climb into her throat.

And...pushing aside all of her fears, the voice that  _ insists _ there will be no wedding,  _ there is no future… _

Catra shyly rests her hand over Adora’s chest.

“...should we serve strawberry ice cream for...the wedding?”

Her throat feels raw from the attack played mere  _ minutes _ before. And her mental state haunted still by the telepathic torture inflicted mere hours before…

Yet still. Cradled against that shoulder...she lets herself dream. 

\---

Adora stops mid-explanation about the differences between chocolate and vanilla as that hand rests against her chest. She freezes, stunned, as she processes  _ exactly _ what it is Catra has just said. 

A week ago and she would have panicked, shut down, and gone mute. Though she is still at a loss for words... there is no fear. 

It takes her a moment to figure out exactly what the warmth in her chest  _ is _ until it occurs to her that it's  _ hope _ . 

“Yes.. I’d love that. Strawberry ice cream and… an ice cream bar. Filled with every flavor we can come up with so you can find your favorite. Then…” Adora pauses, her cheeks going red as she lifts a hand to cover Catra’s, “Then we serve one another?”

\---

Tears flood those slitted eyes, when Adora stops mid-sentence, when her expression calms from excitement and bleeds into pure  _ warmth. _

And she closes her eyes and wraps her arms around Adora, squeezing tightly.

“...you want that, Princess?” she whispers around tears, “...That...sounds wonderful.”

She takes a big, shuddering breath and releases it in a soft sigh, still faintly hiccuping as the tears fail to dry.

“I don’t know much about wedding stuff,” she confesses softly, her voice now fully choked up. “...is serving each other one of those traditions?”

\---

“Who cares?” Adora whispers, bending her head down so she can touch her forehead to Catra’s, “It’s our wedding. We can do whatever we want.”

Adora knows that isn’t... strictly true. That their wedding will likely be extremely orderly and majorly planned out in advance due to the arrangement of their engagement... but maybe they could have a second wedding. A proper one after Prime had left. After Catra was freed and the war was over.

“You can wear a suit if you’d like… and I’d wear a dress…”

\---

Catra’s tail curls a bit at the tip, and her purr deepens in earnest. 

“...like Prom…?” she asks faintly, now fully buried into that neck. Her lips curl into a smile, despite the tears in her eyes at the thought. A hand lifts to lightly massage the back of Adora’s neck.

She hears the door open, glancing up just barely enough to see Bow coming back with four bowls.

“Chocolate brownie for Glimmer,” he says, setting down the bowl for her, “Cookie dough for me. Strawberry for Adora…”

Catra watches Bow set down the bowl for Adora, noting the pink swirls and chunks of red fruit. 

“I thought you might like salted caramel, but if you don’t, just let me know! I’ll find you something else.”

Catra finally unattaches herself from Adora to take the bowl in her hands. But in a moment of pure daring, she takes her spoon to steal a bite of strawberry.

It seems….right. Sweet and tart. Her lips close around a smile as she quietly memorizes the flavor.

Adora’s flavor.

\---

“Mmm I had a different dress in mind but similar to Prom, yea… I really liked you in that suit,” Adora admits, as Bow approaches. 

She hasn’t even had a chance to untangle herself from Catra before the woman in her arms has swiped a spoonful of her ice cream. 

Had it been any other time, or anyone else, that would have meant  _ war _ . More than one sword fight had been waged with spoons at a Best Friends Squad sleepover when it came to ice cream... 

But this was Catra, and it was her  _ first time _ and she chose to taste Adora’s favorite flavor.

“Good right?” Adora asks with a smile.

\---

Catra’s expression softens at Adora’s response, and she smiles around her spoon and nods softly. 

They eat their ice cream in relative silence, Catra watching Bow and Glimmer swap spoonfuls but otherwise...it’s quiet.

Catra knows she has to go soon.

She stands slowly, after a long moment of quiet, lifting a hand to the back of her neck to push at the collar. 

“...I should go soon,” she whispers softly. “...mistakes have a funny way of piling up around him...might as well face it now.”

She doesn’t turn back to Adora, merely squaring her shoulders and heading to the door.

\---

The moment had felt so perfect -- Adora had for just a second allowed herself to forget that it would have to end. 

She knew that wasn’t why it hurt so bad, but it was easier to blame her own forgetfulness. 

Scrambling to her feet to catch up to Catra -- its Glimmer who teleports to the feline’s side first. 

“You won't have to face it alone.” 

Adora opens her mouth to agree but before she is able to get a word out, Bow is standing.

“Yea. Glimmer’s right, you’re with us now, and the best friend squad sticks together. No matter what.”

Neither of her friends' reactions are particularly  _ surprising _ . They are exactly what Adora has come to expect from them and yet -- to know that her friends approve... that they like Catra too…

Something deep inside of her rumbles, an emotion she can't quite name but it feels good. Feels right. Feels stronger then ever and when she looks at Catra it's like a fire in her soul. 

Adora doesn’t think as she closes the distance between herself and Catra. Her mind is perfectly calm and unbelievably clear. All she wants is here, right in front of her. Catra and her friends and -- 

Blue eyes shine with magic for a moment as her hand comes up to cup Catra’s cheek, her head dipping a few inches so her lips can steal one final kiss and  _ something _ in that moment feels… perfect.

Prime doesn’t know what he’s messing with.

\---

Catra watches those shoulder’s square, when she turns to see Adora approaching her. There’s a force...a  _ presence _ ...as she walks towards them, something that sends a small chill up Catra’s spine that  _ would _ have been fear were it not for the fact that it is Adora. 

Her eyes slip closed immediately when that head bows, when she can see what’s coming is a kiss. She lets out the softest sigh, lifting a hand to rest on the back of Adora’s neck, to enjoy the contact with a soft groan. 

“...I just don’t want you near him,” she whispers softly, even as a small, subtle strength revitalizes in her muscles. “I don’t want him hurting you.”

She rests a hand on that chest when the kiss fades.

\---

_ He already is… by hurting you. _

Adora keeps that thought to herself. Admitting it would only cause Catra more grief and-- as frustrating as it is, there is nothing any of them can do to stop him right now. Prime holds the power right now... but not for long.

“We’ll beat him Catra. We’ll figure out how to get you free and then…” Adora pauses, a shy smile crossing her lips as she imagines their future together.

\---

Tears gather in Catra’s eyes, as she leans back in, interrupting Adora by stealing another kiss. She can still taste the strawberry cream on those lips, and she fights the growing sob in the back of her throat.

“-- And then we can have strawberry ice cream,” she whispers, fighting back a soft sniff. “at our wedding.”

She stays there, held in those arms, burying her face into that neck to avoid pulling back, to avoid acknowledging the tears…

But...with a shaky sigh, she finally pulls back, offering a broken little smile to Adora’s friends...to Adora…

...before she quickly heads out the door.


	12. Chapter 12

That evening the best friend squad had one of their impromptu sleep overs. None of the castle staff found it unusual and so they raised no suspicion. Instead of their usual pillow fights and questions about the meaning of life however, the trio broke apart in different ways, exploring various avenues that might yield answers to how they could free Catra.

Bow sent word in a pun-fully awful message to his Dads, asking if they might have anything on ancient magic in their library. Their reply was to cringeworthy for the tech master to read aloud but he assured Adora and Glimmer that his dads were working on putting together a pile of relative material.

Glimmer sent word to Castaspella asking for similar material and received an immediate call back where Casta asked all about the wedding plans and if they needed any help with that. It took a while but by the end of their call, Glimmer had a few titles to pick up the next morning with a quick teleport. 

Adora considered seeking out Razz, but even the thought of leaving Brightmoon and Catra  _ alone _ with Prime made her stomach turn. Instead, she spent every available moment in the training grounds, honing her skills. Beating the dummies to a pulp while imagining Prime’s face on them helped her from going insane especially after the morning following their ice cream party.

Glimmer and Adora had arrived promptly for their negotiation session with Prime, who showed up an hour late with only Shadow Weaver at his side.

Catra, he claimed, hadn’t been feeling very well after she returned to him and had taken ill.

That was two days ago.

Adora had hardly slept. She  _ knew _ he’d done something to Catra and every time she closed her eyes images of Catra’s drenched and shivering body came to mind. 

She held tightly onto that tuft of hair, kept it in her pocket at all times, and worked herself to exhaustion destroying training dummies. It didn’t help.

\---

It was simply  _ delightful _ to watch. 

Lord Prime grins quietly to himself during the negotiations early that morning, to see Adora’s face paler and more gaunt. 

How  _ predictable _ they all were. So concerned over a force captain who had, on several occasions, come close to toppling their rebellion. 

Such big,  _ bleeding _ hearts.

And so, as the early morning negotiations close on the third morning, Prime steeples his fingers and addresses the Princess Adora.

“I have noticed here it is traditional to eat a small meal in the midmorning, is that right, Highness?”

\---

Adora hadn’t spoken a word during the meeting save for when Prime directly asked a question of her. She could tell he was delighted and it was only thanks to Glimmer that she was able to remain calm. If the Queen and her best friend could face this mad man on equal and somewhat  _ civil _ footing then… for the sake of Catra and this farce of a treaty... she could too.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t, on a rare occasion, find ways of making Prime  _ work _ for what he wanted.

“Yes.”

She wouldn’t entertain him with conversation. Besides, it would mean he got to his point quicker.

\---

Prime chuckles at the terseness of her reply, the corners of his lips pulling into a broader smile. 

“Would you like to have that meal with me today? You have been so worried about your Catra...and I can see you’ve been struggling to sleep  _ or _ eat…”

He knows, of course, that she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. And for some reason that makes it all the more  _ delicious. _ She cannot resist him, no matter how desperately she wishes to. 

Sooner or later...they’re all puppets on strings.

\---

Adora can feel Glimmer tense beside her, but she does not dare spare the queen a glance. She knows this is a battle she has to fight alone.

Blue eyes finally raise from the table to lock with Prime’s sickly green. 

“Forgive me, Emperor Prime, but the only one I really wish to eat with is Catra…” Adora pauses for a moment, considering her options before bowing her head, “I would gladly dine with you if you would, perhaps, allow Catra a visitor?”

\---

“I believe such a thing could be arranged. You  _ do _ miss her, don’t you…?”

That smile widens, as Prime begins moving out to the hall, gesturing for Adora to follow. When  _ briefly _ asked if he will be taking morning tea by a terrified servant, Prime clasps his hands behind his back.

“Ah...this morning I believe I will.” Those slitted eyes fall to Adora. “Bring something...sweet for the princess. Strawberries, I suppose. Is that the right word, Adora…?”

\---

Adora rises to follow the Emperor, pausing long enough to give Glimmer’s shoulder a gentle pat. The look they share makes it obvious neither one trust anything good will come of this but Glimmer wasn’t invited and to invite herself would no doubt cause Prime to be  _ difficult _ . Besides, this distraction would allow Glimmer time to research or simply  _ recover _ from the morning’s negotiations. 

“In all honesty Emperor Prime, do you mean to insult me by asking such a question? Or do you just doubt your powers of observation? You have plainly stated that I am not sleeping nor eating well since Catra has taken ill, and I have pledged myself to her in front of you. What more do you require as proof that I care for her?”

Adora keeps her tone level as she closes the distance between herself and the taller man. 

Without batting an eye she addresses the petrified servant with a smile and addresses them directly.

“No need for strawberries, a simple buttered scone will do just fine. Thank you.”

\---

Prime merely smiles at her aggressiveness, her attempts to pin him down. 

“Merely a sympathy, princess. Has no one used such language around you before…?”

For a brief moment, his expression darkens towards the servant, when their eyes fall to Adora and the tenseness in those shoulders falls slightly. She certainly had a way of  _ ruining _ his presence. 

“She has spent most of her time resting,” he adds, holding the princess’ face in his gaze as he begins walking down the hall towards his chambers. “So taxing this engagement has been on her…”

To the large double doors, guarded by identical looking Horde guards he gestures with a saccharine smile, as both guards take the cue to open them.

It’s the standard issue guest room for royalty, in Prime’s case, the suite that has three bedrooms offshooting from a center, sitting chamber. Inside the room grows unnaturally dark, and though Shadow Weaver is not seen, her presence is  _ felt.  _

With a nearly  _ unnatural _ smoothness, the emperor moves towards the fireplace to begin the ritual of tea.

\---

Those familiar shadows fill Adora with a sense of trepidation as she enters into the room, though she does not allow her face to show it. She would rather die than give Prime the satisfaction of knowing that he’d successfully intimidated her. 

Blue eyes took in as much information as possible, preparing for the possibility of an attack. The arrangement, however, felt too  _ obvious _ somehow. Prime had gotten her alone on purpose and Catra had made it clear he was not one to often get his hands dirty. 

“I’m sure Shadow Weaver has been with her the whole time,” Adora says, barely keeping her tone from being  _ accusatory _ . 

\---

Prime sinks down into a chair beside the fire, gesturing softly at the matching one across the way. 

“Not the  _ whole _ time,” he answers, steepling his fingers, “...though she  _ has _ grown rather close to her mother after you left us.”

There’s a knock on the door, and with barely a glance up -- the doors open, as though Prime had commanded them open with a thought. 

The terrified servant walks in, a selection of pastries on a platter as well as three cups for tea. With trembling hands they set the tray down on the small table, but in a small act of defiance, they bow  _ only _ towards Adora. 

All four slitted pupils watch the swift escape, just as the kettle starts to whistle.

“Ah...just in time,” Prime  _ purrs, _ standing to take the singing kettle off of the heat. 

\---

Adora stands for several moments after Prime sits under the pretence of admiring the decor. In reality, both of them knew it was simply an act of defiance. Adora would sit when she was ready and not merely at his request. 

She offers a simple tilt of her head to the servant as they bow. The action still feels odd, her position as  _ royalty _ still something that feels forign even after years of living in a castle. Typically the staff know she doesn’t need the formality, but in the presence of the Emperor it's no wonder everyone is on their best behavior... little acts of defiance not-withstanding. 

“Three cups?” Adora inquires, finally sitting as the kettle begins to whistle, “Will Catra be joining us then?”

\---

The emperor notes the awkwardness of the acknowledgements, indicative that the servants often do  _ not _ address their princess with the respect her rank is due. 

_ What ignorant fools. _

Careful hands pour the tea into the cups, and Lord Prime holds the tray out to Adora, to let her choose which one she wants.

“I suppose we shall see,” he simpers, sinking back into his chair and selecting his own cup from the tray.

“She has been  _ terribly _ exhausted lately. I heard you had her bound in your bed that first night.”

\---

Adora selected the cup nearest to her, but she barely felt the heat it gave off as her blood turned to ice.

Catra... Catra wouldn’t have told him about that  _ willingly _ . 

...and he had known about the strawberries…

Rage surges within her, but she couldn’t dispute him. She wasn’t ashamed of what they had done... even if it sounded awful coming from his mouth.

“What... do you want?”

\---

The realization is delicious. He rests back in his chair, taking the first sip of tea with a relaxed sigh. 

“Merely to ensure she is not going into unkind hands, Adora,” comes his answer, as he selects a pastry from the tray to eat. “I would hate to see her fall into a marriage she is...trapped within.”

That clawed hand reaches for something on the table, a small golden wing. He turns it over in his fingers, watching it catch in the light.

“She is rather fragile. Do be careful with her.”

\---

Adora sits in tense silence for a long moment. Fury swelling up inside her as the fire pops and crackles. She knows Catra lays beyond this very room behind a door. That she is likely listening to this very conversation and is unable to reach out and speak on her own behalf. 

She sees the stolen belt buckle, the way that  _ monster _ plays with it.

“Again... you bring into question my love for her. Emperor Prime,” Adora speaks low, her voice  _ strained _ as it barely contains the powerful emotions threatening beneath the surface, “I swear on my life, Catra will be in no better hands but my own.”

She turns her attention to the delicate cup in her hand, the aroma the liquid inside a sweetly spicy one that is unfamiliar to her.

Bringing the beverage to her lips, she locks eyes with Prime and takes a delicate sip.

The flavor of cinnamon dances on her tongue, a sensation of peace and tranquility flowing through her as she swallows. Though she knows she has never had this blend before, the taste is somehow familiar. She hates to admit that it is… good. Perhaps some of the best she’s ever had.

\---

He smiles, setting the scuffed piece of metal back down on the table.

“Come here, child.”

The door opens, Prime resting his chin on the back of his hand as a small white-clad figure walks in. 

Her mane is back to a close crop, slicked to her skull. Those ears rest unemotively. And those eyes…

Adora had been whisked away nearly  _ instantly _ by her friends when first met with Catra’s possession, and probably never got a good look at them. But now, in the dark shadows of Prime’s chamber, they are, unmistakably  _ green,  _ pupils swallowed.

Catra doesn’t spare Adora a glance, moving with feline grace to kneel on the floor in front of the emperor, who’s piercing gaze rests squarely on Adora. 

“...It’s come to my attention that her collar has been the subject of much...research, for you and your friends…”

He lowers a hand down to the thin band of metal, chuckling when Catra jolts.

“...tell you what. If you take her place, I will have no qualms leaving her here with your friends. Apparently they are rather  _ fond _ of her.”

\---

The cup slips from Adora’s hands falling to the floor and shattering on impact. 

Adora makes no move to apologize, no move to clean up the mess, her entire being frozen. 

_ What has he done to you? _

She wants to rise from her chair, grab the remaining cup of tea, and throw it in his face. She wants to take Catra by the hand and  _ run _ .

All she can do is sit in stunned horror until Prime’s offer finally registers. 

“Never.”

Blue eyes reluctantly leave Catra’s form to focus in on Prime as Adora manages to get her feet beneath her to stand.

“We agreed to a marriage, and once we have the wedding Catra will be free from your  _ control _ . Then you’ll leave and she’ll never have to see you or Shadow Weaver ever again.”

\---

The emperor’s smile deepens, when Catra rises to her feet, gazing blankly at Adora with a matching smile.

“Very well,” he purrs, “After all, it would be a dreadful shame to go through so much trouble and cancel a wedding at the last minute.”

He lifts his hand, stroking along that slicked back hair.

“Unfortunate, about the tea though,” he purrs.

Briefly, Catra’s expression tightens -- those eyes flashing blue and yellow. Fury boils in that expression, slitted pupils flicking towards Prime.

The door opens -- the identical guards opening them in unison.

\---

Adora watches his hand and she imagines cutting it clean off and slapping him with it.

She makes no move to follow through with the violent thought, and consciously makes an effort to relax her balled up fists.

The flickering of blue and yellow, of her Catra rising to the surface even for a moment fills her with such  _ pride _ . Catra’s still fighting, still resisting, and it brings a smile to Adora’s lips, if only for a second. 

She feels the guards approaching from behind her, clearly meant to be escorting her out, but she does not make a move to leave.

“Catra matters more to me than your fancy tea ever could.”

\---

Those lips curl into a  _ grin. _

“Do you know anything about Magicats….Adora?”

He takes another sip from his tea.

“Mm. You see, while many are not magic users themselves...they possess a deep, deep breadth of raw magic.”

The emperor crosses one leg over the other, playing softly with the collar set about that slender neck.

“And, as you’ve experienced...it makes an  _ excellent _ tea.”

\---

Ice settled into the pit of her stomach as her eyes went from the kettle on the table, to Catra, to the shattered remains of the cup at her feet before finally returning to Prime.

He had no reason to lie. 

If anything, everything he said just confirmed things Adora already knew. 

Catra had been used as Shadow Weaver’s personal spare battery for as long as she could remember-- and it would explain, in part, her resistance to Prime’s influence. 

It would explain how the tea had seemed so  _ familiar. _

None of this knowledge helped her swallow the lump in her throat and as the guards guided her out of the room and into the hall she realized she could still taste cinnamon on her tongue. 

\---

The guards follow a silent, unspoken command when Adora  _ resists, _ taking hold of her arms on either side and leading her  _ out _ of Prime’s chambers. 

His low chuckle  _ echoes, _ even long after the doors close. 

But somewhere between the loud final  _ thud _ of those doors swinging shut...and the first corner of the hall, there is...a faint  _ noise. _

The guards do not perceive it, neither Brightmoon’s or the Horde’s. A noise only magic sensitive ears perceive. 

It is an old, quiet noise. Ancient and thrumming but infinitely  _ smaller _ than some of the louder magics. 

And past the corner, when no other soul stands in the hall beside her -- something warm brushes Adora’s leg. 

The once invisible spirit uncloaks themself, the mane once blue and liquid now sharp and red. Those eyes, equally red, set in rage -- but that body presses gently to Adora’s thigh in stride. 

\---

Adora pauses mid-step, her mid registering the dragon -- now lion -- had come for her.

And why wouldn’t they? She deserved it.

“...You have every right to be mad with me.”

Her voice is broken. Her tears held back only by shock and disgust.

Slowly, one foot in front of the other, she continues navigating them further into a secluded corridor before finally falling to her knees.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I drank the tea. I’m sorry I left her behind…”

Adora shakes her head, her body beginning to tremble uncontrollably as she feels her breathing get harder. Her heart beating wildly in her chest.

\---

Red eyes turn blue, peering up into Adora’s. The spirit stops as she stops, and they brace their shoulder to Adora’s upper body when she falls to her knees.

They make a purring noise -- rather alien and unfamiliar compared to Catra’s, but nonetheless a solicitation of  _ care. _

That head nuzzles against Adora’s cheek, paws resting on her thighs.

They shake their head a little at the confession, pressing closer.

\---

The weight of another body on hers helps ground her, and that rumbling purr startles her from the throes of panic.

Blinking, Adora meets the spirit eye to eye, confused at the gestures of kindness when she was responsible for letting Catra return to Prime -- for leaving her behind when she was so close.

It dawns on her slowly that... perhaps this spirit isn’t so angry at her after all.

Shaking arms wrap around that still-spiked mane. Tears finally falling loose and disappearing into that dark red fur.

“Catra’s still fighting… do you... do you know if she’s... ?”

Adora knows she isn’t  _ okay _ but... perhaps she is in less pain now that Prime has had his fun somewhere else.

\---

_ She-Ra  _ is distressed, that much is clear. Melog presses yet closer when those trembling arms lift, closing their eyes and allowing themself to be an island amid a choppy sea. 

But she asks of them a question, one they cannot respond  _ linguistically, _ but…

They pull back, gently lifting their head away from that soft chest. Down, in the center, a small glowing pulse appears -- in the rhythm of a heartbeat.

Melog continues purring as they reach to gently take that wrist in their mouth with extremely light pressure, to draw it to their chest so Adora can  _ feel _ the reflection. 

\---

“What are you --”

Adora doesn’t want that weight to pull away just as it was finally offered to her as a comfort, but she lets the guardian pull away.

She watches as that mouth so gently opens and closes around her wrists, and does not fight as her hand is guided down to the glow emanating from the guardian’s chest, nestled beneath that mane. 

The moment her palm lays flat against it is the moment her world is filled with peace.

She knows... this is Catra. 

The beat is… exhausted and weak. Catra’s very essence has been all but milked dry by the constant assaults, and yet despite this the pulse is steady. Determined. 

Catra will be okay with time... the damage done is still reversible. 

\---

Melog bows their head, that low, soft purr vibrating gently against Adora’s hand, another effort to keep her calm. 

Their soft blue eyes close.

It is their deepest desire to soothe Adora, especially after what was doubtless such a traumatic event.

They lift a paw to that thigh once more, a gentle pressure and a pleading  _ reminder _ that Melog cares for  _ her _ too.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING!** This chapter is quite a bit more sexually charged than previous chapters. It's non-explicit and consensual and very, _very_ sweet BUT it wanders quite a bit closer to M rating. If you're uncomfortable and want to skip, jump to _"Catra wakes, in the stillest part of the night"_. There will be a small summary at the end for folks who wanted to skip that scene, as it is narratively important.

The wedding date is set. 

The dread that shrouds Brightmoon chokes nearly  _ any _ possible excitement for the upcoming wedding between Catra of the Imperial Horde and Adora of Brightmoon, and the days bleed away, steadily. 

Glimmer finds all of her research dead-ending. When Bow’s fathers report back on their findings it is...just as grim. 

And all of that  _ besides _ the fact that no one, not even Adora, has seen Catra since the previous week.

For the most part, however, she  _ has _ been left alone. Other than the occasional draining, for the most part...the emperor and his sorceress are far too invested in their plans to toy with her. 

But...somehow that’s worse. For their eyes have shifted over to  _ Adora. _

They keep their plans away from her, in her small cell of a room. Her ears are keen but they speak in codes and reference writing. 

But it is the night before the wedding, almost two weeks since she watched that  _ monster _ give Adora that tea just to  _ torture _ her...that the angry red seal around her door...fades.

\---

The past week had been a special sort of hell for Adora. She couldn’t make heads or tails out of the books Glimmer had gotten in regards to Catra’s collar, so she had been all but useless in the search to break the spell. Initially she still attended some of the negotiations between Glimmer and Prime, she held no power to make demands and when it became clear Catra wouldn’t be joining them again... Adora had simply stopped going all together.

_ Not _ attending those meetings had the unintentional consequence of leaving her available for all things  _ wedding _ related. She was constantly hounded with questions regarding flower arrangements, preferences of decorations, color schemes, dance lists.... 

She would be forever grateful for Spinnerella and Netossa, the pair stepping in and taking over the planning when it was clear all she wanted was to be left  _ alone. _

And alone she had been.

Her days were spent in the training grounds, pummeling dummies into submission and working out until her muscles screamed at her to stop. Exhausted though she was, sleep was an entirely different battle each night.

She tossed and turned in bed each evening, trying desperately to sleep, only to endure countless nightmares. Visions of Catra being tortured. Shadow Weavers cold laughter. Glowing green eyes.

She was in such a state now. Her body drenched with sweat, face scrunched in worry, tossing this way and that as if trying to escape from some unseen threat.

\---

Catra’s heart twists softly in her chest, sensitive ears catching the faint whimpers, the restless tossing and turning…

“...Oh Adora.”

Her voice is soft, barely a breath, as she pads closer still, lowering a hand to that sweaty face, the distress written there so  _ clearly… _

The bags under those eyes, the gauntness of normally full cheeks. 

Struck with a sudden prince-like desire, Catra bows her head, pressing her lips to those, a brief hope she can peacefully rouse Adora with a kiss.

\---

Adora whines into the kiss, eyelids fluttering open in confusion. She hasn’t slept  _ soundly _ since the last time Catra snuck into her bedroom and joined her, so the gentle touch is more than enough to roust the blonde from her uneasy sleep.

Her body leans into the contact before her mind is even fully aware of the world around her -- but when she realizes exactly what is happening that kiss deepens, a hand untangling itself from twisted sheets to cup Catra’s cheek.

“Catra… what…?”

\---

Catra sighs softly in relief when the kiss is returned,  _ deepened,  _ when Adora rouses and gently cups her cheek. Her heart beat speeds up.

“...the seal broke again. They’ve...what are they doing to you…?”

She moves from those lips to that jaw, suddenly feeling a flash of  _ need _ sweep over her, to  _ have _ Adora. 

“...You look like you haven’t slept at all….”

Catra sinks down onto the bed, tearing herself from that body to encourage Adora to at least sit up. Her hands come up to softly cup that face in both of them, to bring Adora’s forehead to hers. Her purr resonates from deep within her throat, and it’s a purr  _ exclusively _ to comfort Adora. 

“...I’m here,” she whispers.

\---

That purr.

Oh stars that  _ purr. _

She’d feared she’d never hear it again. Even knowing Catra was still fighting, those green eyes had haunted her dreams.

She stares now into blue and gold, and struggles to find her voice.

“Catra... I…”

That voice cracks, the weight of a thousand words left unsaid hanging in the air around them. The weight of the world bringing Adora’s shoulders down.

Tears of joy, of anger, of sadness -- a mix of all three and Adora could never begin to sort one from the other start to fall as her hands take fistfulls of Catra’s shirt and  _ cling _ .

The Princess of Power crumbles into that warm body. Into that purr.

\---

That purr  _ deepens, _ curling darker and more intense but still so  _ gentle _ as Catra locks her arms tightly around those broad shoulders. 

A possessiveness...a  _ protectiveness _ that Catra’s never fully known comes  _ surging _ to life inside her. This is  _ her _ Adora -- her  _ precious _ Adora and those monsters are  _ hurting _ her.

She half pulls Adora into her lap, wanting nothing more in that moment to hide her deep in her arms, to take away  _ all _ of that pain…

Tears gather in Catra’s eyes at the thought, and she bows her head, pressing kisses into Adora’s hair, into that ruined hair poof that’s only  _ barely _ survived the restless sleep. 

“You’re  _ mine,  _ Adora…” she whispers so softly. “I’m not going to let them get away with what they’ve done to you.”

\---

Hot tears soak into that accursed pure white top and Adora shuts her eyes tightly in an attempt to rid herself of the reminder. To instead focus on Catra’s words. Her promise.

“He keeps -- t-t-taking you..” Adora manages as her sobs begin to make her hiccup, “I can’t s-stop him. I... can’t l-lose y-you a-again..”

She isn’t sure her heart can take it. Not knowing. Fearing any day Prime will present a body as a  _ gift. _

The peace she felt, holding that beating essence, that  _ strength _ though weak and slow -- she wishes there were a way to bottle it. To keep it with her. The tuft of hair isn’t enough anymore. She wants the woman in her arms so badly it hurts.

She clings, and buries herself deeper.

\---

Catra buries her fingers deep into that loosened ponytail, pressing Adora’s head gently to her chest, over her heart.

Her breath quickens at the thought, her heart  _ surging _ with some tumble of all manner of emotions -- fury, adoration, sadness,  _ love. _

And she feels... _ powerful.  _ Even if it’s just an illusion. Something inside her feels  _ resilient.  _ He could  _ try, _ she thinks. He could  _ try _ to take her.

She holds Adora tighter still, tucking her chin in place over that head, her purr as loud as ever.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” she whispers, those ears folding back. “...we’re gonna get married.”

_ And then I’m going to kill him. _

She doesn’t say it outloud, but she feels it, deep in her soul. She’s going to kill him for what he did.

\---

Adora rocks herself in those arms, self soothing on top of the love and affection Catra is heaping upon her.

It helps. Her words and actions but every time Adora opens her eyes she sees Prime’s colors on Catra’s lithe form and she can’t stand it.

A hand clutching that cloth gently tugs it upwards. A shaky break before a softly uttered plea.

“Off... Please.”

She hopes her message is clear. Words are  _ too much _ right now, but perhaps actions will do.

\---

Catra lowers a hand to Adora’s when she feels the gentle tug, something new surging through her body. 

She inhales sharply, her other hand still holding Adora’s head to her chest as sharp fangs sink down into her lip, as she stares blankly up at the ceiling to steal herself. 

Catra follows the plea, slowly releasing Adora’s head and scooting back.

An odd sense of confidence stirs within her as she starts to tug the garment up and off. She tries to meet Adora’s eyes, wondering if she feels the same electricity too, the same one that has Catra’s heart caught in a grapple of need, of want, of  _ love.  _

She throws the offending cloth unceremoniously to the ground with something of a smirk, but the expression fades soft as her arms open to invite Adora back to her bare chest, suddenly breathless at the though of it.

\---

The tears still fall, she can’t rein them in now that the dam has broken but the cause is an entirely new reason.

Catra is  _ beautiful _ .

She already knew this, of course, but scooting back and watching that offending garment come off to reveal that large expanse of soft fur leaves her breathless. Her heart beats faster and her mouth feels dry. Adora knows she’s nervous, but above all else she is excited. This feels right and no matter the outcome... she knows she’ll be loved.

Adora holds Catra’s gaze and deliberately closes her eyes, offering the other woman a slow blink before she can not resist the invitation of those open arms.

Her head returns to that chest, a cheek pressed into soft fur so the shell of her ear can hear that purr at its source. 

\---

In the low light of the evening moons, Catra’s scars fade somewhat, her stripes accentuated by the softness of the light filtering into the room. 

Her purr climbs in volume and passion when that head goes back to her chest, Catra wrapping her arms around that head to keep her there. Her claws gently massage into the back of that neck. 

She can feel how stiff those muscles are, and she bows her head to kiss into that neck.

“Stars, you’re stiff…”

Catra feels that same possessive, protective surge of desire galvanizing her, as she lightly nips just below that ear. 

“...I’d. Love to help with that...if you’d let me.”

The idea of running her hands across that muscular back is making her heart skip a beat. Several beats.

\---

Wrapped in Catra’s arms Adora feels a sense of peace she’s known nowhere else. Her breathing slowly began to even out, no longer in a near panic from the nightmarish dreams she endured, and with every inhale she buried her noise deeper into that fur trying desperately to memorize Catra’s scent. 

It takes her some time to process the offer given, her mind foggy from exhaustion, but eventually she manages a nod.

Still, she doesn’t make a move to pull out of those arms, her own hands too busy exploring the expanse of Catra’s now exposed back, her fur so soft and warm it feels a shame that Adora only gets to experience this for the first time now.

\---

For just a moment, Catra fears her own desire is pushing past Adora’s boundaries. Despite the slow blink, Adora is struggling with her words, perhaps now isn’t the time for physical --

Catra suddenly sucks in a breath when those hands slide along her back, barely able to contain the soft  _ whimper _ that threatens to interrupt her soft purr. 

_ Oh. _

That electricity  _ surges _ all the more, when those blunt fingers slide down, finding a soft patch of fur and an even  _ softer _ spot for Catra. Involuntarily her tail lifts slightly, desperate to deepen that gentle touch. 

“O-or...you could...keep doing that…” Catra breathes, staring blankly at the ceiling.

\---

Adora smiles into that chest, and offers a hum but does not stop her roaming hands.

She knows when her fingers find scars, the texture different beneath that fur and to these she pays extra close attention. Her own scars sometimes ache with phantom pains and perhaps later Catra will let her spend hours placing kisses to each and every one... 

Tonight, however, there is simply no time.

Adora savors a few more minutes simply touching, grounding herself back from the emotional cliff she had been teetering on since her meal with  _ Him. _

When she feels ready... Adora lifts her head from that chest, her eyes moving to Catra’s own, and then down to those soft lips.

“Can… can I kiss you?”

\---

Catra  _ bathes _ in the attention, soaking up every little stroke, every gentle caress. Her purr surges as her breath quickens, biting her lip when she feels Adora  _ smile _ against her chest. 

_ How can such a simple thing feel so….profound…? _

That warmth against her chest lifts -- and she instantly misses the feel of that soft breath painting her fur warmer. But in its absence, Adora begs for something new.

He response is another intense wave of  _ desire _ at both the request itself and the way it’s pled softly. 

And her reply is  _ immediate,  _ to cup that face gently in her hands and  _ kiss. _

“Yes,” she whispers, in the brief span of time between one kiss and the next. “Please…”

\---

Adora sighs into their first kiss. She could kiss Catra forever and never grow bored of it. 

For a while it's merely the press of their lips together, noses bumping playfully as they pull back to breath only to come right back in for more, but when Adora feels her lower lip gently tugged on the blonde realizes she wants  _ more. _

A curious tongue seeks permission to enter and when Catra groans and opens herself wider Adora finds herself drawn to those fangs.

She wonders how they might feel on her skin, if it would hurt or if… perhaps....

\---

Adora’s hunger fuels any lingering doubts Catra had before, and she meets her in kind. She groans, letting Adora have whatever it is she wants, but while she does so...Catra’s hands slide along Adora’s sides, softly tugging at that compression top.

Her turn to ask. 

She plays softly with the skin just beneath the cloth, smoothing,  _ hinting _ at how nice it’ll feel to be free of that cloth…

\---

The soft touch is simultaneously too much and not enough, but she appreciates Catra giving her as much time as she needs as well as the chance to choose. 

It's an easy decision to make and Adora nods, a smile on her lips. She moves to place her hands over Catra’s wrists, gently guiding those hands up until her top joins Catra’s on the floor.

They’ve seen each other naked countless times before, even showering together wasn’t a unique experience but this... 

It's different.

“Catra… I… I want…”

\---

Catra’s breath catches in her lungs at Adora’s willingness, at her  _ desire, _ and her fingers softly stroke at those bare sides after the cloth is cast aside.

She gazes into those blue eyes, lifting a hand to that cheek at that plea.

“What do you want?” she coaxes, leaning in to press a fast kiss against those lips. “What do you want, Adora…?”

Her hands come up to those strong shoulders, massaging against the sides of that neck with her thumbs before smoothing down towards her upper arms. 

She takes one of Adora’s hands, bringing those knuckles to her lips in a far more intimate reflection of a prince’s courtly kiss. 

“I’ll give you anything you want.”

\---

Adora leans her head into that palm, reassured at the press of Catra’s lips against her own, and watches as Catra slowly explores her body. Those thumbs at her neck illicit a  _ whine _ and Adora can feel the way her skin pebbles beneath those hands.

She struggles to find her voice, her body and mind wanting only one thing.

_ “You _ .”

Adora hardly recognizes her own voice, it feels different on her tongue but she manages to wrangle it long enough to continue. 

“You... mentioned a massage?”

\---

Catra feels a surge of warmth shoot straight down into her stomach at the husky whispered  _ “you”,  _ biting her lip at the sudden validation of desire.

She can tell Adora is still struggling with words, but the desire is loud and clear at least. Adora wants to be loved on. And that’s all Catra really needs to know. 

Catra’s purr deepens further when Adora asks for that massage, and she presses her lips deep against those knuckles a second time. Something  _ surges _ inside her, something warm…

...something...magical?

But now is hardly the time to think about such things, when Adora has just asked for a massage. Already she can imagine that skin under her fingertips…

She takes a nearby bottle of lotion from the small table beside Adora’s bed.

“Shoulders? Back?”

\---

Her fingers tingle as those lips touch them for a second time. Something charged and wild but oh so very  _ safe _ travels between them and Adora is lost for a moment in Catra’s eyes.

The spell is broken as Catra pulls away. Adora blinks once, hard, trying to ground herself back into reality and will her body to move.

She considers how she wants to go about this, processing Catra’s question in her head for several long seconds before giving a soft reply.

“...Is it.. Too much to ask for both?”

She does not wait for Catra’s response to lay down flat on her stomach, grabbing a pillow on the way to hug it to her chest as she gets comfortable. As soft as her requests have been, she knows she wants this. 

She wants Catra. She wants love... and she wants the affection she has so long been denied.

\---

Catra purrs softly when Adora goes down, sliding a hand appreciatively along her lower back.

“Not too much…” she whispers, bowing her head to kiss softly into that neck. “Never too much.”

She keeps her mouth planted gently, shifting beneath an ear as she carefully retracts her claws, and massages into that neck. 

“Moonlight looks good on you, Princess,” she whispers when she pulls back, rubbing some of the lotion into her palm. 

She starts at the back of that neck, applying slow, even pressure in smooth strokes. The lotion is scentless, she assumes because of Adora’s sensitivities, and she’s grateful nothing masks the scent of that skin. 

Deep, deep into those shoulders Catra’s fingers work, wishing more than anything else she could take all of that stress away.

\---

Adora realizes quickly her one mistake. With her back exposed and her head pressed gently into the pillow she holds, she can not see Catra’s movements. She can not prepare or brace herself in any way meaning that every stroke of Catra’s palms against her skin is a  _ surprise _ . 

Neither was Adora expecting  _ complements _ and almost as soon as Catra begins working on her neck the Princess of Power finds herself releasing a noise she can’t recall ever making before. A moan so  _ needy _ she feels as though she should be embarrassed for having been its source, and yet... she feels good to let it out.

It feels right. Letting Catra know her actions are making Adora feel  _ this _ good feels important, somehow. 

The deeper those hands work into her shoulders the more her body relaxes. It is far from instant, but with every pass Adora feels herself sinking more and more into the mattress. Something else is happening too.

It takes her mind a while to place it, wondering if the tingling is just a result from the new sensations -- but soon she begins to feel  _ warm _ and with her next deep inhale she smells cinnamon. 

“Catra -- what are you doing?”

\---

After Adora releases a moan so  _ sweet _ and filled with such raw vulnerability, Catra’s eyes grow half lidded. Her hands move in a deep massage, and she pauses periodically to press her lips to scars…

She can see a few she ripped into that frame herself, and she bows to brush her lips over them in soft apology...in  _ love. _

A sense of power settles over her like a cloak about her shoulders. For the first time in  _ so _ long...she feels perfectly in control. 

Those muscles are warm, that skin soft. She can feel Adora’s breathing, her heartbeat resonate through her body, through Catra’s fingertips. 

She’s nearly in a trance when she hears Adora speak.

“Giving you a massage…?” she asks, but the slightly  _ piercing _ quality of that voice makes Catra fear she’s crossed a line. 

Immediately her hands withdraw, and she reaches for Adora’s hand, to pull her up, to look at her.

“I-I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

\---

Adora isn’t sure how long it's been since she’s felt this grounded. Days? Weeks? It doesn’t really matter but the fact that merely a half hour with Catra has settled her more than anything else in a long, long time.

It's a good thing too, as she takes that offered hand and moves to sit up. She notices how Catra’s eyes seem lit up by a magical essence she’s seen before as She-Ra, and again on occasion with Glimmer. 

“Hurt me…?” Adora’s frowns, before realizing Catra’s train of thought, “N-no! Oh stars no! That was -- I’d love to keep doing that forever but Catra... I..”

She pauses, the memories of that tea coming back full force. Adora leans into Catra for a hug and gently places her lips against the smaller womans lips. She tastes cinnamon there too and its so much better then anything Prime could ever have hoped to collect. 

“You’re magic... the stuff  _ he _ ... put into our drinks… I -- I can feel it from you now.”

\---

Catra blinks at Adora, confused when she doesn’t seem hurt or otherwise upset. But when Adora begins to trail off, when she says she wants this  _ but… _

Those ears fold down, Catra suddenly worried they’ve gone too far or  _ something. _

Just like that, however, she’s pulled into those arms, and she arches into the contact, kissing quietly back in reply. 

“Magic…?” she whispers, somewhat  _ hazily, _ and it takes her a moment from the sudden rush of yet another kiss to register what Adora is saying. 

Her magic had never come to her. In  _ years _ of fighting Adora, and the years before, it had never manifested itself. She had found an old book once, in one of the many ruined Rebellion towns, that was about Magicats, but assumed she was either not  _ really _ one or just defective. 

And when Shadow Weaver had begun harvesting her magic months ago, it still would not respond to her desire to be  _ free. _ Catra assumed it would never rise to her aid, only be the thing that made Shadow Weaver keep  _ sucking _ the life out of her.

But it’s true...there  _ is _ something...warm, burning, bright, inside her, moving through her veins in a way she’s never felt before. A quick glance to her fingers gives her no outward indication of magic, but her fingers still  _ thrum. _

“My magic…”

She looks up into those blue eyes, and... _ slowly… _ she can sense something she hadn’t sensed before…

The magic within Adora. 

She rests a hand over Adora’s heart, just above the red mark left behind from one of the cannon blasts she tanked. She can feel the steady thump rising to meet her palm...and deeper still, the churning  _ thrum  _ of idle-kept magic. 

Yet that magic isn’t Adora’s. She-Ra’s, likely...and it’s vast and nearly overpowering.

Those ears flick back, as she searches more. It seems  _ imperative _ now to find Adora’s…

She-Ra’s magic feels like a heated glow, wild and impersonal. It flows through Adora’s body, and the more Catra focuses, the  _ clearer _ that image becomes.

It takes her several minutes of looking, around that bright glow. 

_ There. _

Small...small and  _ so _ fragile...thrumming like a weak heartbeat, she feels something  _ new, _ something cooler and calmer. Almost...huddled…

Biting her lip, Catra gently reaches for it, feeling her magic flow through her fingers.

\---

Adora watches that face curiously, sees the realization flicker in those eyes and has to remind herself to  _ breathe. _

She doesn’t move and as that warm hand is pressed to her chest she feels her body respond by tensing. It isn’t a conscious thought, more like a reaction, something deep inside her protecting her from this foreign intruder. 

But this  _ isn’t _ an intruder. This is Catra -- and her body seems to understand.

The magic inside her… She-Ra’s magic… she hears it constantly. It churns inside her like the waves of the ocean and feels just as deep. It is wild in a way similar to the Whispering Woods and just as powerful. Shadow Weaver’s magic had never been able to broach its wall, though she had tried more than once to do so.

But Catra... 

As those blue and yellow eyes begin to  _ glow, Adora _ something in that swirling chaos start to give way… to part so that Catra’s magic can pass through.

Adora closes her eyes and merely allows herself to feel… and listen… until she can feel the warmth of Catra’s magic all over her body, seeming to seek out and comfort every inch of skin and go so deep as to brush against her very soul.

\---

Something feels...wrong, about that tiny, huddled little presence, 

Catra bows her head, wrapping her arms around Adora’s strong frame, her eyes fluttering closed as she focuses, concentrating deeper.

It feels...empty. Devoid...like something should be filled and far brighter, far more vibrant. But it’s not…

Again she reaches out, her magic softly flowing and never demanding. It feels like she has so much to give...nothing like what it felt to be strapped to that table, being fed from…

“...your magic...it’s...it’s almost empty,” Catra whispers, as she presses several soft kisses into that neck. “...I...I want to put some back...”

The desire is so potent it brings tears to Catra’s eyes, as she peppers that neck in soft, desperate kisses.

“Please, Adora…”

\---

It seems strange to think. Adora? Princess of Power? Vessel for She-Ra and so full of magic she can perform feats no one else on Etheria could ever hope to achieve -- is nearly  _ out _ of magic?

And yet, Adora knows Catra is right.

She-Ra is so  _ much  _ of who she is but... they are not yet one.

Blue eyes open to stare across the room where the Sword of Protection sits.  _ Its _ magic has always held a different note. What that means is lost to her and Adora never thought it was important enough to bring up. Not when she was still able to fight and there was a war to be won.

Perhaps... she needs to investigate that further.

Her attention returns to those soft kisses beid paid to her neck and she sighs, eyes fluttering closed once more.

“Okay…” Adora agrees, “Okay just be careful.”

\---

She wants to  _ bite. _

The thought comes all at once, when she pulls back slightly, when her fingers massage along the the spanse of muscle past that neck, towards her shoulder. 

The instinct is strong, nearly overpowering. 

“...Adora..” she whispers softly, massaging into the spot she wants to bite, “...I…”

She doesn’t know how to explain, and she worries such an act might  _ hurt. _

“...I want you. To be mine…” she whispers, unsure of how to phrase such a  _ possessive _ desire. 

Does it...make her no better than  _ him..? _

But that magic inside Adora is low,  _ dangerously _ low...and Catra’s heart  _ aches _ to set that right.

\----

Something  _ changes _ in a way Adora can’t quite describe. They had been desperate for one another all night -- but this... this feels more like a need.

Adora clings tighter, both hands clutching that furred back as if letting go means this spell will end.

The thought terrifies her.

That this might all be another one of Shadow Weavers cruel dreams -- that Catra isn’t actually here... that tomorrow will come and Adora will awaken to learn none of this was ever real.

“Then make me yours…”

She tilts her head, dropping one shoulder in offering -- giving Catra all the space in the world to do whatever she wishes to that shoulder she seems to intent on pampering. 

“Catra I... I want that.  _ Please _ …”

\---

Catra presses several desperate kisses against Adora’s jawline after that heartfelt  _ plea, _ her fingers burying in soft blond hair as she holds Adora’s head close to her mouth. 

But her desire...it feels  _ violent, _ and she’s not about to sink her teeth into innocent flesh.

Not….not again.

Yet still that spot  _ calls _ to her, and she can’t stop herself from peppering kisses down against that expanse of muscle where she had been rubbing before, something that would be well hidden even by a dress…

“I...I want to  _ bite _ you. I don’t know why...I don’t want to hurt you…”

Her arms wrap tightly around that back as she peppers kisses down onto the spot she wants so  _ badly _ to mark. 

“I...I want to mark you here…”

\---

Adora  _ shivers _ at the confession. Those gentle kisses ignite a fire deep inside her and it is a struggle to stay  _ still _ . Her body wants to move -- not away,  _ never _ away -- but this moment calls for stillness.

She compromises, bringing a hand up to the back of Catra’s neck so she can hold it in place. The thought of Catra stopping now almost painful to even imagine.

“ _ Okay _ …” she breaths, her voice low and needy, “Just -- kiss it better when you’re done.”

\---

Catra pauses, pulling back just enough to gaze into those blue eyes.

“I-I don’t...want to just...indulge some instinct if it’s going to  _ hurt _ you…”

Tears spring into those eyes at the thought of Adora suffering  _ more. _ She bows her head to kiss those lips, her hands cradling Adora’s face so  _ gently. _

“...haven’t you suffered enough?”

It’s close to an apology, like the one whispered a few weeks ago in this very room. Tears spill down her cheeks as she presses kiss after kiss against that mouth, an attempt to make up for how much suffering she’s caused Adora…

“...haven’t I hurt you enough?”

\---

It takes Adora a moment to realize her mistake and in between returning those desperate kisses it  _ clicks _ . 

Catra’s just as lost and afraid as she is. Wanting but confused and desperate not to mess it all up. It should have been obvious and yet, Catra always seemed to just  _ know _ these things. Even when they were younger it came easier for Catra and Adora would wait for an explanation. 

That... had to change.

“Catra... this isn’t... I wasn’t just agreeing to make you happy,” Adora pauses, cringing at how that came out, “I mean I was but! I also... it -- I want that too.”

The contact is suddenly too much-- she can’t keep  _ touching _ and hope that her brain will continue to function, but she  _ wants _ this… and so she leans back, out of those arms and away from those kisses.

She misses them immediately, but takes a deep breath and offers Catra a soft smile.

“I  _ trust _ you Catra and this... I  _ need _ to know it wasn’t all a dream... so please…”

\---

Catra….relaxes, with a deep, relieved sigh. She spends several seconds after that soft confession kissing Adora again, slowing down the fast, chaste little kisses in favor of deeper, desperate kisses...and when she’s self soothed on those lips enough…

“...where do you want it?” she asks, her voice low and husky. At first biting that shoulder seemed  _ right, _ but now the thought of Adora picking the spot seems even  _ better. _

Her arms lock around that back, deepening their contact and pressing herself as close as she can get. 

\---

Each kiss is returned with matching enthusiasm until Adora’s lips start to tingle, unused to all the attention. 

As much as she could continue doing this forever, Catra’s mouth is needed elsewhere.

Adora hums, considering Catra’s request for guidance. Those lips had been marking a patch of skin that would be hidden beneath her dress but that  _ would not do. _

So Adora moved that head closer to her collar bone, an area of skin she was sure would be exposed for all of Etheria to see. 

“Here... I want everyone to know. We won’t have to hide anymore.”

\---

Catra’s heart swells when Adora gently moves her head to a more  _ desirable _ spot. She knows Adora wants it to be  _ seen,  _ a mark just as sacred as their exchange of wearable gifts. As the wedding itself…

Without another word, Catra licks the spot,  _ kissing _ it. And carefully, her teeth sink down. 

She feels her magic flow through her mouth far easier and  _ faster _ than it did from the tips of her fingers. Her arms lock gently around Adora’s back, her fingers burying into that hair…

_ I love you... _

\---

The world around her seems to fade away -- until all Adora knows is that gentle pinch and the  _ surge _ of all that is  _ Catra _ .

Its wild. Its free. Its  _ beautiful _ .

From her chest to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes -- everything feels  _ alive _ and distantly Adora is aware she is crying from sheer  _ relief _ .

A part of her reaches out, seeking Catra’s magic to greet it, to offer even an ounce of this sensation in return, and to reassure her that everything is okay. That this is  _ perfect _ .

For now, she is content to enjoy this new found sense of peace for as long as it will last.

\---

She didn’t expect it to feel like  _ this. _

It’s a much  _ easier _ way to offer much needed magic directly into Adora’s depleted stores, and she can sense that little huddled light growing back to strength, vitality. Still preciously  _ small _ compared to the swirling force that is She-Ra, yet...at least now in no danger of being snuffed out.

There is no taste of blood, like she would have expected. Just the taste of Adora’s skin, and the overwhelming sense of  _ love.  _

She can smell Adora’s tears, but she knows they’re not from pain or fear or stress. That body molds into her own, as though desperate to enhance every single point of contact.

_ I love you... _

She thinks it again, as she starts to finish up this initial, admittedly  _ overwhelming _ bond. She draws her tongue across the mark to soothe whatever pain it might cause, and then three feather soft kisses.

But when she pulls back…

She expects to see some level of  _ brutality _ done to that small area, a bruise,  _ something _ to mark that her fangs had just been sunk deep inside that flesh.

Instead, two small pinpricks, enough to  _ see, _ but no one could ever accuse it of being a mark of  _ pain. _

Catra runs her thumb over it gently. 

“...how do you feel?” she asks softly, gazing into those blue eyes.

\---

_ Loved. _

Adora feels nothing but loved. From inside out and top to bottom, every part of her feels cherished and adored. She wonders, distantly, if she can bottle this feeling and keep it forever -- until Catra sweeps her thumb gently over that mark and Adora feels lightning strike inside her.

Yes. It seems she can.

Words could never be enough to answer Catra’s question, so when those blue tear filled eyes finally open -- When Adora finally finds the strength inside herself to  _ move _ , she kisses Catra fully,  _ desperately _ . 

Catra tastes like salt and cinnamon and Adora can’t get enough. She kisses deeper, making a soft noise of  _ need _ .

“I love you,” she breaths between kisses, between gasps of air before diving in for another kiss. “It's  _ perfect _ .”

\---

She’s crushed beneath that kiss, and any lingering doubt about Adora’s desires fades into nothingness.

The words come to her lips easily -- “I love you too…”

_ I always have. _

* * *

Catra wakes, in the stillest part of the night, to a body no longer her own.

Pure, relentless  _ rage _ courses through her veins as her limbs move of an accord not her own, when she slips from Adora’s arms and is forced to stand, cold and alone in the room. 

Sudden shame and  _ piercing _ guilt burn alive with the violent wrath she feels, when she remembers her containment spell failing just a few hours ago.

She had...thought it was Melog, setting her free. Helping her climb to Adora.

And now she realizes her mistake.

He  _ wanted _ her here.

She’s puppeted like a lifeless doll over to the small table where Adora keeps her sword.

_ No. _

She thinks it, and she can feel that magic surge within her, furious,  _ challenging _ to the magic that has her by the throat. 

And, to her surprise, she feels the smallest bit of  _ resistance _ in her arm muscles.

_ I’m not bringing you her damn sword.  _

\---

That collar, typically black, turns  _ red _ . Catra’s defiance would  _ not _ be tolerated. 

A crackling of electricity surges through the feline’s frame, a familiar tactic of the sorceress controlling part of the magic inside it.

_ Enough! _ It seems to scream,  _ You  _ **_will_ ** _ obey. _

The magic clashes with Catra’s own, the disturbance seeming to make the Blonde still sleeping start to stir.

Adora shifts, searching for something, before rolling into the spot still warm from where Catra had been laying moments before. She sighs, happy and peaceful, returning to slumber with her nose in Catra’s pillow.

It is as if, the collar realizes what has recently transpired, and  _ rage _ takes over.

A red hue encases her and that clawed hand reaches for the sword, grabbing it by the hilt and holding it up for several long seconds.

It would be so  _ easy _ to end things now.

\---

She feels the odd  _ warmth _ of the sword’s hilt in her palm, and there’s a bit of blood drawn when the possession forces her claws tight around the hilt and into her own flesh. 

Still...she  _ fights. _

With every last ounce of energy, against the  _ agony _ of Shadow Weaver’s magic, she  _ fights.  _

But all she can do is  _ stall. _

She feels herself holding the blade, her body turned towards Adora.

_ Don’t you  _ **_fucking_ ** _ dare. _

Catra prepares to brace  _ every last muscle _ against this particular suggestion.

_Won’t your boss be furious with you if you ruin his plans, Shadow Weaver…?_ _He’s getting tired of you, you know. When he read my mind I caught some of his thoughts too. Better stay useful,_ ** _Mother._**

\---

The collar  _ burns _ at that throat, the color turning an even deeper maroon as it seems Shadow Weaver reads her thoughts loud and clear.

Still, the message seems to work as Catra’s limbs are forced to move. Though each step is awkward and stiff, the resistance is no match for the collar and soon enough, Catra is at the door.

There is a pause, one in which that head turns one final time to look at the slumbering Adora. So peaceful in sleep. It isn’t clear if Shadow Weaver allows this glance in order to provide one final  _ tortuous _ blow to Catra… or if the sorceress is still furious and checking one last time to be  _ sure _ .

Whatever the case, its the last Catra sees before finding herself in the hall, walking the corridors to Prime’s chambers.

\---

She fights at every turn. It must be  _ exhausting,  _ for Shadow Weaver.

Once outside the room she resists, forcing a standstill that lasts for nearly a minute. She tries to drop the sword, tries to walk in the wrong direction.

She knows she can’t win this tug of war. But there’s still the chance she can make something  _ break. _

...even if it’s her own body.

Ultimately...her own strength wanes. She shifts, holding the sword closer to her chest. 

She doesn’t know what they want with the sword but everything in her body knows...it won’t be good. 

One last resist, against the door. Her arms lock around the sword. 

She can hear them outside the door. The rage and frustration. And she’s distracted enough not to notice right away. 

There’s a growing sense of  _ power _ she feels, from the sword, but it’s beginning to fade. And just as the door opens...Catra realizes the runestone on the blade has turned  _ dark. _

\---

The door swings open, nearly breaking off its hinges as those shadowy tendrils wrap around Catra and pull her inside.

Shadow Weaver is upon her in a moment, huge and magic crackling. Both of her clawed hands lock onto either side of Catra’s head and she  _ pulls _ .

Before, that magic was still -- a stagnant pool of water just waiting for someone to break its surface and take as much as they pleased.

Now, that magic  _ sizzles _ .

Shadow Weaver lets out a roar, throwing Catra away and holding a hand to her head as she tries to process what she had meant to do and what had actually occurred.

Time was running out.

She knew Prime would be displeased with her outburst, her  _ delay _ would possibly cost her dearly but for now she still held control over Catra -- and they had the sword.

“My Lord... I present you Catra. You already have the potion…”

\---

The expression on Prime’s face makes the  _ piercing _ agony running through her veins  _ worth  _ it. 

He can’t blame Shadow Weaver for this. Not really. Not when the hold on her had been so  _ solid _ before. 

She stares at him with a  _ smile _ , arms locked across the sword protectively. She finds the paralysis has faded, and while they can still make her  _ suffer, _ she can see by the look across that expression -- and the fury in Shadow Weaver’s actions -- she will  _ never  _ be possessed again. 

“...what’s wrong?” she  _ purrs, _ lips pulling into a grin that reveals her  _ fangs _ . “What’s wrong,  _ My Lord?” _

The emperor stands suddenly, knocking over the small table beside him and shattering a small cup of tea. 

“Hold her  _ still,” _ comes the  _ enraged _ command to Shadow Weaver.

\---

It is not that Shadow Weaver  _ hesitates  _ \-- she would never do such a thing -- but more that she takes a second to calculate how best to follow Primes order.

Touching Catra moments ago had  _ burned _ in a way that it shouldn’t, and if nothing else Shadow Weaver was sure it would be  _ ill advised _ to attempt such an action again so soon.

Instead, her shadow tendrils reach out, wrapping around Catra’s legs and  _ yanking _ until the small woman is on her knees. A second set of shadowy black magic joins the first, these wrapping around her arms and squeezing tight enough to make breathing a  _ challenge _ . 

“I hope your night with Adora was worth it,” Shadow Weaver all but hisses, “It will be the last comfort you ever know.”

\---

Catra manages to stifle the sound of  _ pain _ when she’s driven down to her knees. Her eyes remain locked on Prime’s face. Despite being driven down, she still keeps her firm hold on the sword.

Prime walks forward, all four slitted eyes  _ tight _ and  _ furious. _

“Well worth it,” Catra spits around the growing difficulty to  _ breathe. _ “...because now you can’t make me kill her. Can you..?”

The fury on that face is so profound, and Catra  _ grins _ when he has to take a moment to recenter himself. 

“The lynchpin of your plan. And now you can’t do it. You will  _ never _ have Adora --”

She breaks down coughing as the air in her lungs squeezes out. Prime’s fingers wrap around the hilt of the blade. 

But Catra does not let go.

With a furious glance towards Shadow Weaver, Prime wordlessly  _ fumes. _

But he doesn’t wait for her to force Catra to let go. Instead he wrenches it away from her.

“Oh little  _ sister,”  _ he snarls, holding the Sword of Protection in his hand. “Defiant as you may be, my plans are far from  _ ruined.” _

Catra watches, first with confusion, then dread, as the emperor lays the sword down in the middle of a carefully drawn magic circle and draws a small vial from his cloak. 

“You remember this, don’t you? Adora’s blood that you so  _ generously _ brought to me. And now you’ve brought me the sword.”

He opens the vial. And Catra suddenly starts to  _ thrash. _

Powerful as the magic was that dispeled the possession, she cannot break free of Shadow Weaver’s hold, as she watches Horde Prime pour the contents across the blade.

With a smile, the evil king raises the sword and brings it down into the center of the circle.

And it  _ shatters. _

\---

Adoras scream is heard all throughout Bright Moon.

It seems to go on for forever, long past the point where one would need to stop for air.

Shadow Weaver smiles behind her mask, looking at the shards of broken sword on the table with a sense of pride. Her spell and potion had worked  _ perfectly _ . This was a moment of celebration.

That is, except for Catra’s continued resistance. 

Those tendrils force the woman closer to the ground, as if the gravity on her had been increased by ten.

“Your  _ resistance _ has been for nothing Catra. Lord Prime has always been ten steps ahead. Congratulations, my liege, it was an honor to bare witness to the fall of She-Ra.”

\---

Catra’s heart stops in her chest, her veins turning to  _ ice _ when she hears that  _ scream. _

The sound...of someone’s soul being ripped in two. 

Tears spring to her eyes as she  _ thrashes _ in that hold, a scream working free from those oxygen starved lungs. Agony in unison. 

She feels Prime grip her chin and she roughly  _ jerks _ her face away.

“You...You --”

“Do not worry, little sister. It won’t kill her tonight. No, the two of you will marry tomorrow...share your last, pathetic little kiss…”

His lips draw into a smile.

“Though...I doubt she will last the week.”

With one last surge of  _ rage, _ Catra suddenly turns her head towards that hand and bites  _ down _ into his palm. She tastes his blood and bites down  _ further, _ clamping down as she hears him  _ scream,  _ until his other hand locks around her throat and chokes until she falls loose, until she falls unconscious onto the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary for the skipped section: The spell holding Catra in Prime's chambers fails, and she heads up to Adora's room the night before the wedding. During gentle physical intimacy, Catra discovers and awakens her magic, and restores Adora's, which was depleted from the stress and mental torture she's been under since first accepting the marriage proposal (and possibly since she received word Catra was executed months and months ago).


	14. Chapter 14

The sun filters into Adora’s room. 

Glimmer has been awake all night.

Adora’s breath is uneven. Labored. She rests for now...but Glimmer isn’t sure she’ll ever be able to forget the way she looked just hours before…

The queen sniffs, wiping away her tears and trying very hard not to wake either Adora, cradled gently to her breast, or Bow behind her, holding her gently. 

\---

The body in his arms was hot, too hot. Far  _ far _ too hot. 

By the time Bow had arrived he had feared it was  _ too late _ . Glimmer had been near inconsolable and Adora... 

Neither of them knew how she managed to hang on. Even as just the token Regular Guy -- Bow  _ knew.  _ The sword was  _ gone _ \-- and so was She-Ra.

Glimmer’s sniffles rousted the Master Archer from his fitful sleep, warm brown eyes opening to the morning light.

He looks first to Adora, her breath little more than a wheeze but steady… and in sleep she seems less pained. He presses a kiss into her hair, atop her crown where he knew the Tiara once sat.

Carefully he sat up, attention moving from Adora to Glimmer.

“Hey... it’s going to be okay.”

\---

Glimmer can hear Bow start to wake, and frantically wipes the tears out of her eyes.

She watches him bow to kiss the crown of that head and her heart  _ aches,  _ and any attempt to mask her tears fails as she bites back a shuddering sob. 

As he sits up, she pulls Adora closer to her chest, her arms gently wrapped around that head. 

“Y-yeah,” she whispers, sniffing softly. “She’s...she’s gonna get married and…”

The denial begins to break as her sore eyes flood again with tears. 

“...Bow we can’t lose her…not after all this. We’re so close…”

\---

Tears well up in his own eyes and he isn't ashamed to let them fall. Glimmer’s pain is his and Adora…

He drops his head to kiss that crown once more before reaching out to Glimmer, a hand cupping her cheek as he brings his forehead to hers. 

“Adora’s the strongest person we know... even without She-Ra. We have to believe everything will be okay and... we’ll be there for her. Even if it's not.”

He presses his lips to those tear stained cheeks, first the left and then the right. Alternating between each side as if enough kisses will make the pain go away.

\---

Tears flow freely down her cheeks when Bow kisses them, and she leans into the touch to return the gesture herself. 

She wants to believe him. Desperately. She wants to believe Adora will recover…

But she looks so small there, so pale in the warm morning light. Deep dark circles under those eyes, breathing that comes in soft, unsteady  _ wheezes. _

It’s such a contrast...the peacefulness on that face against such damage done. The morning light makes her look angelic…

“...W-we….we can’t call it off...can we?” she whispers, lifting the back of her hand to mop at the tears that just  _ won’t _ stop. “...H-he’ll never agree. N-not unless she’s…”

\---

He pulls away, just enough to look at Adora, and considers what would happen to her if they called the whole thing off.

“It's... it's more than that Glim,” Bow says, his voice breaking. He pauses to clear his throat before managing to continue, “Adora-- I don’t think she’d make it. Marrying Catra is what she  _ wants _ . Denying her that after all this…”

It would be the end of her. 

He moves to take Glimmers hand in his own, interlocking their fingers before taking Adora’s in his other hand and doing the same.

“We’ll get through this. Together.”

\---

He’s right.

Adora  _ wants _ to marry Catra. She squeezes both of those hand, and brings them both to her mouth to kiss so  _ softly.  _

She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know what there  _ is _ to say. She gently drops Adora’s hand in favor of softly stroking that cheek, flushed with fever…

“...Adora?” she whispers, her voice so soft. “...Adora...wake up…”

She feels her heart suddenly gripped with the fear that Adora will not wake.

\---

She hears someone calling her name... but something isn’t right.

She  _ hurts _ . Why does she hurt... 

Everything had been  _ perfect _ .

She wants to sink further into the darkness. Coil into herself and simply rest... but someone is calling her name.

“..catra..?”

\---

More tears fall at that soft name spoken from broken lips.

“...not Catra, I’m afraid…” Glimmer whispers, stroking softly along that cheek. “Just me. Glimmer…”

She bites her lip…

“...but...today’s the wedding, Adora…”

She brushes back the soft blond hair plastered to that tired, far too warm face. 

\---

“Yea,” Bow adds softly, “You don’t want to sleep in and miss the ceremony do you?”

Adora’s thoughts swim through that haze of pain and she realizes…

Everything is quiet. Too quiet.

Glimmer was there so why -- why couldn’t she hear the windchimes…

No. She could worry about that later. She -- she needed to get up.

Blue eyes struggle to open, managing to fight the invisible weights trying to keep them down. 

It takes her several seconds before she is able to  _ focus _ and find Glimmer’s gaze. She offers a smile, puts on a brave face. She has to hide how bad she feels. 

“D-does that mean I get more crystal dust?”

\---

It seems….so  _ painfully _ in character for Adora to ignore her own suffering, to try to put on a brave face. 

It doesn’t stop the tears from spilling down Glimmer’s cheeks.

“Yeah…” she whispers, bowing to kiss Adora’s forehead. “...as much as you want….”

Her hand stays on that cheek, cupping gently. 

“Do you want tea? Breakfast?”

\---

_ Catra. _

That’s all Adora really wants but... even in her current state she knows that it is an impossible request.

Instead she reaches for Bow’s shoulder and moves to sit up, unable to hide the groan of pain as she transitions to the vertical world.

“Woah -- Hey Adora you need to take it easy…”

She notes the near terror in Bow’s voice and oh how Adora wishes she could reassure them both that she’s  _ fine. _

Adora has refused tea ever since the  _ incident _ with Prime, and though she knows she is not hungry, she has to give her friends something to do to put them at ease.

“Maybe... waffles?”

Her favorite.

\---

Glimmer reaches to steady Adora half  _ frantically, _ worried she’ll fall backward. But even weakened...Adora is still  _ strong.  _

“Waffles...of course.”

She pokes her head out to the stationed guard -- a watch she had put up after finding Adora nearly dead on the ground only hours before -- and tells them to get waffles.

She watches Bow and Adora on the bed, mopping up more tears as she moves to sit back down with them.

“We have a few hours at least…” she says softly, brushing Adora’s hair out of her eyes. “Do you want crystal dust right after your waffles?”

\---

Adora takes the brief moment of Glimmer’s absence to glance over to where her sword had been.

Where a blank space is there to greet her gaze.

Grief cuts like broken glass through her fevered mind. She  _ knew _ something was wrong… that She-Ra was gone and yet…

Seeing that missing sword makes it all real again.

Bow steadies her as she sways and she leans into him more. Clinging to his familiar embrace with one hand as the other moves to press against the mark Catra left her. The pinch of pain confirms  _ that _ at least, wasn’t imagined. 

“Yea…” Adora agrees, “After breakfast and... and before a shower? I... want to look my best.”

* * *

The morning is...slow.

It drags on.

Adora, to her credit, is strong enough to stand after a few pathetic bites of waffles. 

Her skin feels hot, when she puts the crystal dust on that face, beneath those dulled, once blue eyes…

The shower scares Glimmer, but Adora doesn’t fall. She can see that form from behind the magic privacy screen...how  _ thin _ she is after all this. 

Angry tears fill her eyes and  _ fall. _

She’s never felt so  _ helpless. _

The hours bleed away.

She’s just finished gently putting Adora’s hair in a soft, sweeping up-do. A time that’s supposed to be gentle and  _ sacred _ between close friends. But all Glimmer can think about is if they’re really just preparing Adora for her own casket.

* * *

If there was  _ one _ thing that afforded him a reprieve from the  _ headache _ of the last 24 hours, it was that Catra put up no resistance to dressing herself for the wedding. Horde Prime had  _ thought _ that she would have fought this last time, one last chance to avoid the union, but to see her clad in white, in his crest...well. Regardless of what nasty ulterior motives she possesses, he’ll take the capitulence for now.

There was, of course, the victory of destroying She-Ra that brings a smile to his lips, as he moves past Catra just outside of the grand hall.

He doesn’t ask if she knows her cue -- he knows she does. And he doesn’t threaten her to stay put -- after all….she  _ wants _ this. 

He sneers at her slightly when she offers him such an  _ infuriating _ grin before moving into the hall itself. 

He folds his hands behind his back spotting Glimmer, a regal posture to be sure, but perhaps an attempt to hide his bandaged, swollen hand. 

“Good morning, your grace,” he simpers. “I trust the princess is well?”

\---

There was very little magic could do to hide the way her eyes are swollen, her cheeks puffier then even their usual round curves.

Still, Glimmer felt her mother’s cape around her shoulders act as good as any armor. Her back straight, chin held high. If Adora was able to endure this while being in so much  _ pain _ then what excuse did she have as Queen to want nothing more than to hide.

The wedding is to start within the hour, and Glimmer is grateful that Spinnerella and Netossa had agreed to take over most of the arrangements. It allowed her to spend as much time with Adora as possible before her duties as Queen had forced her from her best friend's side. 

Bow had agreed to stay with Adora. To keep her safe.

She knew Adora needed him more -- but as Prime showed his slimy face she  _ wished _ he was with her instead.

“Adora is... nervous. As all brides are, but otherwise fine. How is Catra?”

\---

That tall, imposing figure towers over Glimmer, his lips drawing into a  _ smile.  _ He does so enjoy this, making others  _ squirm. _

_ Nervous indeed. _

He looks forward to seeing the damage done to the princess, what little husk remains of her now that She-Ra has been effectively  _ snuffed out. _

He opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m looking forward to seeing her dress,” comes a voice, not his own, from behind him. There’s a few gasps, as Catra has broken a most  _ important _ tradition of staying hidden until it is her turn to march down and meet her beloved up front, but Catra cares so  _ very _ little for decorum at this point.

Prime turns to stare at her, and Catra feels that rage pooling in him, the way it constricts into the collar. She can feel the threat against her bruised neck. But she only  _ smiles _ back up at him.

Those bicolored eyes fall to Glimmer.

“Sparkles...can I talk to you?”

Without waiting for permission or offer, she reaches for Glimmer’s wrist to lead her away from the emperor.

\---

Glimmer is at a loss for words, but the  _ relief  _ she feels when she sees Catra standing there is... Honestly it's something she never would have thought she’d feel. Their brief time together had changed Glimmer’s opinion of the woman considerably and rather than simply be led away by her wrist, the Queen moves to take Catra’s arm at the elbow. 

“Yes, of course, if you’ll excuse us.”

She spits out the pleasantries while walking away so as not to give Prime any say in the matter either. At least, by doing this, she could still  _ pretend _ the treaty was real. 

There was no reason to upset the guests and staff who were still blissfully unaware.

\---

The gentle hold at the elbow makes something warm surge through Catra’s body, and despite being in a dress...despite fearing  _ desperately _ for Adora...something...sinks into place. 

She rests a respectful hand on Glimmer’s arm, neatly leading her away from Prime and back out into the hall. 

“What happened to Adora?” she whispers, once they’re in private. 

\---

There is no way to sugar coat the answer to Catra’s question-- but Glimmer is an affectionate woman and Catra has endured so much pain as well.

She doesn’t think before she pulls Catra into a hug.

“Its.. bad. She can hardly stand -- She-ra she’s... she’s just  _ gone _ and…”

Glimmer can feel her eyes begin to sting again with more tears and she fights them back.

“When I found her she… she…” Glimmer shakes her head, “We didn’t think she’d survive the night and waking her was so  _ hard _ .”

The queen hugs Catra tighter. It just wasn’t  _ fair. _

They had been so close and now…

“I’m sorry…”

\---

Catra locks her arms tightly around Glimmer, surging protectiveness joining with her overall feelings of guilt. Of  _ fury. _

She wants to say it was her fault. 

Yet she knows it  _ wasn’t. _

“...They forced me to take the sword,” she whispers softly, a growl echoing deep in her throat. “...but they messed up. They can’t...possess me anymore. It failed, shortly after I brought the sword. And the whole time I kept fighting  _ back.” _

She buries her face in that hair, holding Glimmer  _ tightly. _

“They’re  _ furious _ because now they know I won’t kill her. They can’t  _ make _ it happen.”

A low purr begins to rumble in Catra’s throat, an attempt to  _ soothe.  _ She pulls back from the hug, and reaches into her dress, down the front.

Tucked gently between her breasts and the bodice, she pulls out the small wing buckle.

She had found it this morning. And she had taken it  _ back. _

Closing her eyes, she carefully wraps her fingers around the metal, until it  _ glows. _

“...give this to her. Make her touch it, with her skin. Press it into her, it should help…”

Those eyes glow...a fierce color. And...perhaps, a keen eye might see they’re slightly  _ bluer _ than normal.

“...And Sparkles?”

Her voice sets. Those shoulders square.

“...I’m going to set this right.”

\---

_ Magic. _

Catra could use  _ magic. _

Glimmer could hardly believe it. In all the years since they had known each other, fought against one another -- Magic was the one thing Glimmer had the upper hand on in their fights. Catra had shown no affinity for spell casting at all and yet... 

The queen holds that offered buckle, warmed by magic as much as Catra’s skin, and it feels  _ familiar. _

It feels like Adora -- or maybe, without She-Ra, Catra’s magic  _ in _ Adora was the only thing keeping the blonde going.

“I knew you were there… with Adora last night I mean,” Glimmer explains, her face a bit flushed. 

Adora hadn’t been in any condition to explain  _ exactly _ what had happened but Glimmer could hazard a guess. She’d been the one to help Adora dress that day after all, and even if she hadn’t, the bruising mark on Adora’s skin stood out proud. 

“You were the first thing she asked about when she finally woke up.”

It feels… important to say. That Catra should know Adora doesn’t hold any of this against her. That even in so much pain -- Catra was the one thing Adora cared about the most. 

“So don’t you dare leave her behind. I’ll keep her safe but Catra... you’re what she wants to live for.”

\---

Catra pulls Glimmer back into a tight hug. Her arms lock tightly around that back, protectively.

“...give this to her for me too. Tell her she’s gonna see me soon. Tell her...tell her I love her.”

She pulls back, tears in her eyes.

“All she’s gotta do is make it to me. That’s it. I can help her once I can touch her…”

Catra doesn’t know  _ how _ she knows this, but she believes it with every fiber of her being. Everything within her tells her she just needs to touch, and she can fix it. 

\---

Glimmer hugs her back just as fiercely, that buckle clenched tight in her fist. She’ll make sure Adora gets it, and she’ll pass along Catra’s message too. 

“Okay…”

There is so much more that should be said. So many questions that Glimmer has but she can’t ask. It's doubtful that Catra even knows the answers. They are all running blind towards  _ something _ and thats frightening.

But maybe…

Maybe it means Prime won't be able to see it coming.

“Punch Prime once for me, okay?”

\---

Catra makes the march first, deprived of any vision of Adora, or word after she sent Sparkles back to her. She stands in the front of the great hall, up on the small center dias. And those eyes stay focused on the doors, desperate to see her  _ bride. _

\---

Catra is made to wait for several minutes. It is clear there is something amiss as the crowd starts to murmur.

Adora can hear them as she struggles to remain standing, leaning heavily against the wall in a room just off the side of the main event where she had been resting, gathering her strength as the final touches were made and the ceremony began.

Her condition was… considerably worse off by the time Glimmer rejoined her. 

Keeping her eyes open felt like a war on its very own and every breath she drew felt less helpful than the last.

\---

“Adora!”

Glimmer rushes to that side, carefully moving to support her best friend as tears spring to her eyes.

“Hey...easy…” she whispers softly, trying to help steady Adora back to her feet. “Do you need to sit down?”

Her arms lock around that frame, a hug to keep her from falling.

\---

“Glimmer... I’m late -- I need to go…”

Adora says this even as her body slumps more and more into Glimmer’s arms. Her fever is back, dangerously high and still she fights to continue on.

“Catra’s waiting…”

A hand raises to touch her mark, trying to draw strength from its rapidly depleting reserves. 

\---

Glimmer takes Adora’s hand, pressing the wing buckle into her palm. Catra said it needed to touch her  _ skin,  _ needed to be pressed into her skin, and so Glimmer does just that. 

“...Catra gave this to me to give to you. She said...it would help…”

She holds Adora’s hand, her eyes squeezing closed.

“...You don’t have to do this now, Catra can wait...she...she said they can’t possess her anymore. She...she says she loves you. So much…”

\---

It takes the buckle several painfully long seconds before it begins to have  _ any _ effect. Adora is bleeding magic at a rapid rate, her soul torn with no way to heal the damage except... it seems to offer  _ more _ magic.

When she realizes exactly what it is that Glimmer has placed in her hand, Adora brings it to her chest, pressing it against the mark Catra had left the night before and  _ gasps _ . 

She can breath again, if only for the moment. Her body drains the buckle dry and she is thankful for as much as it gives even if it leaves her  _ aching _ for more.

“Glimmer... this wedding... it was never about us. It’s just another battle field -- but Catra’s out there fighting and I need... I need to get to her.”

\---

Glimmer reaches to hold that arm, to help Adora shuffle her way towards the double doors. Tears spill down her cheeks as she knows what Adora says is true.

It was never about love. 

Just another war.

Still, the fact that Catra  _ was _ able to help Adora with that small belt buckle...gives her hope that being in Catra’s arms will somehow  _ save _ her.

So...she helps Adora to the door.

She peeks out the door, then back to Adora. 

“...She’s ready for you…”

\---

Adora doesn’t bother to ask how she looks, but she manages to offer Glimmer a smile.

“Then... I better get out there.”

She stands, pulling away from Glimmer and sparing a moment to bring that buckle to her lips, pressing a kiss to its warm metal before steeling herself. 

Catra was waiting for her. She just needed to get to her.

Someone, somewhere, noticed her arrival and signaled the band.

The ever growing concerned murmuring voices drowned out by the beginning chords of Brightmoon’s traditional wedding song.

It suited neither of them, but it didn’t matter. 

Not when blue eyes finally found their bride.

Adora started down the aisle with strong confident steps, ignoring the usual slow procession in favor of simply  _ making it _ .

Half way down, her color started to fade, her steps no longer sure. Catra’s pick-me-up had lasted  _ minutes _ and now Adora was stumbling mere steps away from the woman she loved, reaching out and desperate just to get there.

\---

Catra does  _ not _ stand on the dias. 

Everyone else might be bound by tradition but Catra isn’t, and the moment Adora starts to stumble, Catra leaves her spot to make a beeline for Adora. 

They meet, several feet from the dias.

There’s gasps. Whispers. Worry. Keen ears hear distant theories about  _ poison. _ About assassination. Even the chorus stops their incessant  _ song. _

But all that matters is Catra locking her arms around Adora. All that matters is the magic that  _ instantly _ comes up to Adora’s aid, to fill dangerously low stores, stores  _ bleeding _ from such intense spiritual damage.

“I’m here,” she whispers against that ear. “Just breathe.”

\---

Her world narrows down to each point of contact, those arms around her, that chest pressed against hers -- her head resting against that shoulder.

Nothing else matters as the warmth of Catra’s magic floods her core. It fills her lungs and surrounds her heart, encouraging it to keep beating.. To keep breathing.

The moment her arms have strength again, Adora wraps them around Catra in return.  _ Clinging _ as she buries herself deeper into that love that surrounds her.

“Catra… I love you…”

\---

Catra’s lips brush into that hair, as her arms lock  _ tightly _ around Adora.

“...yeah?” she asks, her voice taking on an air of  _ playfulness. _ “...you wanna marry me?”

Without releasing contact with her, Catra gently takes her by the wrist, to lead her up to the dias.

Like a prince, she helps Adora up each step, until,  _ finally, _ they stand properly in front of everyone. 

Distantly Catra hears the priest. But it doesn’t matter. Her ears are trained on Adora...and  _ only _ Adora. 

\---

Everything is a blur, her world narrowed down to Catra and only Catra. Distantly, she knows Glimmer and Bow have joined her up near the front, standing off to the side as her Chosen witnesses -- but beyond that the world seems meaningless.

Words are being spoken and the longer she spends in Catra’s presence the easier things seem to be. Her breathing loses that wheezing edge and she no longer  _ needs _ to lean on Catra... but she continues to do so simply because she wants to.

Adora blinks slowly, deliberately, while the priest drones on about the moons light and Etheria’s blessings or... something like that.

It isn’t until there’s a significant pause and Adora hears a pointed clearing of a throat before she realizes she’s meant to say something.

“Are we married now?”

She asks, her foggy brain screaming that she’s forgotten  _ something _ and then it clicks.

“Oh right.. I need to say I do.”

From behind her, she hears Glimmer stifle a laugh, and Bow sigh in relief. Both are grateful to see Adora is feeling better now then she was this morning -- Catra’s magic making all the difference in the world.

\---

Catra can  _ feel _ the fury peeling off of both Prime and Shadow Weaver from the front of the hall, the way they both watch Adora stabilize in front of their eyes. It brings such a  _ grin _ to her lips, as Adora  _ sweetly _ forgets what she’s supposed to do.

_ You can’t take her away from us. _

“Then say ‘I do’, Adora,” she admonishes with a chuckle of her own, lifting that hand to her heart. 

The rest of the guests in the hall seem just as relieved to see Adora begin to  _ recover,  _ as though marriage to Catra is physically  _ healing  _ her. 

Catra may have no chosen witnesses of her own, but when she glances down, she can see the slightly invisible outline of Melog sitting in front of them.

\---

Adora pauses, just long enough to slowly close and open her eyes in a wordless kiss for Catra, a soft smile on her lips all the while.

“Of course I do.”

Anything else is simply impossible now. Catra was a part of her very soul and their love would not be denied, no matter how much Prime and Shadow Weaver had tried.

“Can I kiss you now?”

\---

Catra returns the kind slow blink, and she bites her lip. Adora’s struggle to listen to the priest is nothing short of  _ endearing, _ that all she’s doing is waiting for a kiss.

Her heart  _ twists. _

Even last night, so much of their time went to soft kissing. As she gazes into those eyes, as she listens to the priest recite the same vows for Catra to bind herself to, she thinks about how wonderful it will be to kiss those lips again...and again...and again. 

That Adora will be  _ hers.  _

And she will be Adora’s.

Still, it makes her  _ laugh, _ the way Adora asks so brashly, the way the priest has to awkwardly clear their throat and start up Catra’s vows a second time. 

She slow blinks to her, the whole time, hoping the gesture will soothe any sense of denial or desperation. 

She cradles those hands in her own, when the priest gives pause for her to respond. She gazes into those tired, dulled eyes. 

“...I do.”

“Then the union between Adora, Princess of Power and Catra of the Horde is sanctified. You may seal your commitment with a kiss.”

Catra reaches up, to cup those cheeks, gently pulling Adora’s face to her own. 

She pours her magic into it, wanting to warm Adora from head to toe. 

\---

“ _ Finally _ ,” Adora breaths, her lips moments from touching Catra’s.

The wait had felt like an eternity but this kiss was worth all the anguish and suffering.

Catra’s magic poured into her, mending what was broken or at least starting the process. 

No longer feeling as if she were on deaths door, Adora steps closer, pressing their bodies together in a way that she was sure was  _ improper _ but frankly she couldn’t care less.

The crowd was  _ supposed _ to be quiet, but by this point tradition was moot and several in the congregation began to clap.

A loud “Get it girl!” sounding suspiciously like Netossa’s voice called out, accompanied by some laughter Adora recognized as Spinnerella. 

Oh how Adora wished she could take Catra into her arms and  _ dip _ her, but her body is still weak and she would never do anything that might cause Catra to fall.

Instead, she just smiles -- smiles and kisses her  _ wife _ .

\---

Catra doesn’t want to pull back, save that she wants to be  _ out _ of the limelight. But when Adora just wants kisses, over and over again, Catra is nearly  _ helpless _ but to comply.

“Shhhhh…” she whispers against those lips, resting a hand over that heart. She can feel that some of the damage is easing, but she also knows it will take time…

And...that She-Ra...is gone.

Tears spring to her eyes, as she kisses Adora, her arms wrapping around that neck. She knows Adora will have a lot to grieve, once the dust settles. 

She finally pulls back pressing their foreheads together, before reaching gently for Adora’s wrist to walk out with her.

\---

Adora feels those fingers around her wrist, just above where the dragon bangle when it clicks.

“Catra -- wait…”

She pulls the buckle out from within the dip of her dress, propriety be damned, and removes the wing buckle she had placed there.

In front of everyone, because to Adora there is no one else who matters save Catra, she pins that buckle to that chest. Right over the spot where Catra’s mark rests on Adora’s own body.

“ _ Now _ we can go.”

\---

Catra stands perfectly still. 

Tears gather in her eyes, as Adora gently pins the belt buckle onto her. She had...missed this object, so much after Prime stole it away from her, and this morning for a small selfish moment she had stolen it back. 

But now...now it’s  _ hers _ again. She rests a hand over it, fighting back  _ more _ tears.

“...alright.”

She gently walks with Adora out of the hall.

\---

There is a reception area leading to a room designed for the after party celebration. A second band, having been informed the wedding was  _ finally _ over had already begun to play. The music was something light, meant to do nothing more than to fill the otherwise quiet space. 

They were  _ meant _ to stand around and greet their guests. Thank them for coming and receive any congratulations so as to give each guest equal opportunity to see them.

Adora hated the idea. 

She was pretty sure Catra did too.

“Can we sit down…?”’

\---

Catra’s expression is  _ soft, _ when Adora asks to sit. 

The same tired exhaustion mirrors in her own eyes, but her desire to  _ protect, _ to provide...is fully alive inside Catra.

She leads Adora to one of the chairs ultimately intended for them after they’ve greeted everyone, and presses a kiss to her temple after she sits.

“...let me get you something to drink...alright?”

Her smile is warm, her fingers softly stroking along Adora’s jaw.

She lingers for a few moments, seeing the desire to just  _ be _ with her...and presses one last gentle kiss to Adora’s forehead before heading over to find her something to drink.

\---

Adora agrees, but only because she can see the drink station from where she’s sitting. Glimmer and Bow have appeared and are already scrambling to redirect the guests to this new place to greet and congratulate the brides. She is glad to have them by her side but something feels  _ wrong _ . 

Panic builds as Catra gets further away and Adora stands and starts to follow her new  _ wife _ to the refreshments.

* * *

The shadows seemed to lengthen around Catra as she examined her options. There were many drinks of the alcoholic variety but those were quickly dismissed, as were the bubbly drinks safe for all ages. Simple water was what Adora needed at the moment-- but something else had caught Catra’s eye.

Chocolate covered strawberries set on a platter on the desert table.

The area was abandoned as guests were still funneling in and it would be  _ rude _ to go for desert before the entrees had been served.

Not even the staff meant to man the stations were there yet.

It was so  _ easy _ for Shadow Weaver to bleed into existence unnoticed. 

“ _ Catra _ ,” A hand curled around that shoulder, “You will be coming with me.”


	15. Chapter 15

She’s just set two of the strawberries on the plate when she feels those claws sink into her shoulder. 

A righteous, nearly  _ divine _ rage surges through her. 

Before she can blink, she’s taken from the hall, instantly recognizing the room as Prime’s chambers. She can see her master sitting in a chair by the fire, an expression of pure  _ venom _ as he looks her over.

“One. Last. Chance. Succumb to your training, and you can live. You can even rule the Horde. But...if the answer is no…”

He spins a dagger in his hands, toying with the tip of it.

\---

The spell circle had taken her all morning to perfect, the sigils drawn on the floors, walls, and evening parts of the ceiling.

Catra had grown too powerful to be controlled, but that merely meant they needed even  _ more _ power to control her. It only needed to work this one last time.

When teleporting in, Shadow Weaver had made sure to land them  _ directly _ in the circle. Prime hadn’t even finished giving Catra this final chance before the entire room began to glow an eerie purple. 

“Listen to him child,” Shadow Weaver hissed, her weight as well as two shadowy tendrils bearing down on Catra to keep her  _ still _ , “It will be less painful for everyone. All of this will  _ end _ with Adora’s death -- don’t you understand?”

\---

Catra can feel the magic already pulsing, the sigils lighting up a sickly magenta the moment the two of them land in the circle. 

She’s held still by it; it controls, for  _ now, _ and once fully activated Catra knows it will expunge any lingering aspect of her soul.

Her ears pin flat to her skull. 

“Less painful for  _ who, _ ” she  _ snarls, _ her tail thrashing. She lifts a hand to the wing over her heart, her lips curling back to reveal her fangs. “I am  _ not _ killing her.”

Bicolored eyes begin to glow  _ blue, _ and Catra feels a countermagic building up inside her. 

The emperor stands, still gripping his dagger.

“Your  _ will _ is irrelevant.” He glances to Shadow Weaver with a nod. “Begin.”

\---

“The  _ world, _ you ungrateful whelp! Give in and this war will end!”

Shadow Weaver fails to notice that change, so focused on her own magic weaving into the room around them so that she can draw as much energy and  _ life _ in order for her spell to succeed. 

At Prime’s command, she strikes.

Shadows gather to her from every corner of the room and that magenta  _ pulses _ like a heart. Weaver’s own soul... what is left of it... being necessary to even  _ attempt _ this level of possession. 

Shadow Weaver’s entire being attempts to rip its way through Catra’s back but instead she is met with  _ pain _ .

\---

The dress is shredded instantly, but instead of being a body with little resistance to that magic, what meets Shadow Weaver is like nothing she’s felt from Catra before. 

Those eyes, glowing blue, suddenly close, a mane cut short to that skull suddenly cascading down her back,  _ long _ and  _ wild. _ Across that that furred body a garment of  _ white _ so blinding it makes the dress look dim clings to a form now more muscular,  _ taller. _ When Catra opens her eyes, they glow  _ brilliant _ now, nearly white.

She’s still held in place, for now, and the claws on her feet sink deep into the marble floor as bracers form and coalesce golden around her forearms. The claws on her hands lengthen, turning blue and  _ glowing. _

The paralysis loses its hold, and Catra turns towards Shadow Weaver. The final piece flashes in place across her face: a tall, winged tiara.

Unlike Adora’s, each aspect wraps with wild elements, less structured and  _ proper, _ and more wild, furious,  _ ancient. _

In Catra’s mind’s eye, she can see a pegasus. The spirit of the sword. 

_ She-Ra. _

The beast paws at the ground, mighty hooves striking earth. Catra feels the power, the magic, surging with righteous indignation, focused now on the man, the  _ unholy abomination _ standing before them.

_ End him. _

Great wings beat as the divine beast rises to their hindlegs, fore-hooves pawing in the air in fiery wraith -- and the sigils beneath Catra’s feet suddenly turn bright  _ blue. _

“Get her under  _ control!”  _ Prime  _ screams  _ to Shadow Weaver.

\---

Shadow Weaver would not  _ give in _ . 

Her magic screamed, roaring to its full force, filling the room with its inky black and maroon aura.

Except, that is, for the blinding white  _ inferno _ at the rooms core.

**_“You will yield!”_ **

The sorceress coiled herself around the newly born princess of power, doing everything to snuff out her flame, to  _ claim _ it before it was too late.

Her magic began to  _ sizzle _ , her shadows turning to ash as they clashed against that ocean of raw energy. Bit by bit Shadow Weaver forced herself closer, talon like fingers grasping for control. Grasping for  _ Catra _ .

With every inch gained, she lost more and more of herself to that light.

By the time she realized what was happening, it was too late. She was like a moth to a flame and soon, all that was left of Shadow Weaver was her broken scream.

* * *

Melog stays pressed against Adora, as she stumbles out of the hall. They can feel the raw  _ panic _ within the princess, the desperation, the fear…

There was little they could do for Adora, after the sword shattered the night before. They had limited power, still waking from a sleep thousands of years old. Nothing but stay nearby...nothing but comfort.

But here at least they could help. 

Melog pauses against the limping princess, transforming themself into the shape of a dragon, and offering their back.

\---

Adora had begun her hobbled run the minute she had seen Catra  _ disappear _ , she couldn’t be sure where Shadow Weaver had taken her  _ wife _ ... but Prime’s chambers was a good place to start.

They were half way there when Adora was nearly knocked over by a  _ wave _ of power.

“She-Ra…”

Adora barely had time to process that fact before a screeching sound nearly  _ deafened _ her. Shadow Weaver’s magic... she had never heard it so desperate and  _ enraged _ before.

She wasn’t going to make it... 

That is, until the lion beside her transformed.

She would have time to freak out over riding a Dragon later.

Scrambling, Adora mounted the guardian and held on.

“Catra! We’re coming!”

* * *

A flicker of  _ fear _ passes through those four, slitted eyes as Shadow Weaver’s mask  _ clangs _ to the ground below, perhaps the first time she’s ever seen the expression on the emperor’s face.

Catra beings to walk forward. 

She remembers his  _ smile _ the night before. When he tore out a piece of Adora’s soul. She remembers every last image he fed her about how she would be forced to murder the one she loved. 

She’s distantly aware of the strength flowing through her, the way it doesn’t quite unify with her own will. 

It’s not revenge she feels as she flexes her longer talon-like claws out. It’s not a desire to make suffer, or to punish. The will of the spirit within her is furious, of course -- just as she is. But Catra suddenly feels the depth of how much  _ bigger _ this is. This man, this  _ monster, _ has polluted Etheria since before living memory. Suffering, well beyond what Catra and Adora have endured, for thousands...and thousands...of years. 

In a rare moment of submission, Catra yields herself to the spirit within her, allowing it to use her to bring about the end of something so  _ terrible. _

Her ears pin flat into her flowing mane and she launches herself at him. 

The battle isn’t clean. The new powers are foreign, and somewhere within Catra she knows they do not belong with her. For now, an unconventional alliance. 

Her movement is slower than normal. She feels the dagger slice into her more than once. But her claws are sharp, her strikes more powerful than she’s ever been. 

It’s a blur, a blur of that radiant magic surging through her, as she leaps into the air to deliver a final blow.

Catra feels that dagger plunge deep into her chest, moments before she sees the life bleed from his eyes. 

She stands there, feeling the handle of that awful blade sticking out of her. Tears spring to her eyes. 

Just below the golden wing.

Yet...the spirit within her still remains, and where she would have felt despair, her emotions are calm, especially as she gazes down at the now dead Emperor Prime. It’s over. It’s over, and Adora will live. 

_ Stay still... _

She braces herself against the wall and slides down.

\---

Melog’s body slams hard, breaking the doors to Prime’s room that had been forced closed by magic. 

Adora all but falls from that back once they are inside, scrambling up despite her pain and taking in the scene.

Shadow Weaver’s mask lays next to a pile of ash and further into the room there is the body of Prime, dead.

“Catra!?”

She stumbles, seeing her love as  _ She-Ra _ … and also bleeding.

_ Oh stars she’s  _ bleeding--

“No.. no no no no no! Catra!”

Adora races to her side, desperate to touch but afraid to cause more  _ harm _ . 

“Catra… I’m here.. please…”

\---

She supposes it shouldn’t surprise her, when the door breaks down, when Adora is  _ there. _ She supposes, even weakened and struck with a blow that should have  _ killed her _ that Adora would still come.

It makes her smile.

“Hey Adora..” she whispers, her voice a little raw. 

Her body is purring, an expression not of joy but of an instinctive attempt to heal. But Catra knows purring won’t fix the blade in her heart.

Still...she feels the spirit within her move when Adora is close, and, even though she doesn’t  _ know _ what the outcome will be, she knows what to  _ do. _

“Hey -- hey...” Adora is panicking, and Catra reaches out to hold her hand. “Hey, it’s...it’s gonna be alright. It wants to...it wants to go back to  _ you. _ ”

The spirit gives her no indication she is  _ unwanted, _ but Catra knows it belongs within Adora.

“It’s gonna be alright,” she repeats, gently bringing Adora’s hand to the hilt of the Horde blade buried in her chest.

\---

Adora is beyond simply in tears... she’s a  _ wreck _ .

The love of her life is bleeding out in her arms and it hasn’t even been an  _ hour _ since they said ‘I do’.

Did the universe really want them to suffer so much? Why didn’t they deserve some peace beyond  _ death _ .

“N-no Catra… save your strength... She-Ra can heal you... you’re going to be  _ okay _ .”

Adora doesn’t understand… she’d failed. The sword had been broken and yet... Catra was She-Ra... and she was offering that power back?

Her hand moves to that hilt in Catra’s chest. Removing it would surely  _ kill _ her but she can’t deny she feels something calling out to her.

“Catra... please... I can’t lose you.”

\---

When Adora resists, Catra draws a deep, shaky breath.

Even now, her heart is so soft for Adora, and she brings that hand to her mouth to kiss. 

“Hey….hey, it’s alright…”

Tears spring to her eyes when Adora rests her hand around that hilt.

“Look...it doesn’t belong in me. It’s...not healing me. I don’t think it can, since I’m not...well...chosen.”

It’s a soft confession of acknowledgement. For so long Catra had felt  _ jealous _ of Adora...of her status as a chosen vessel for an ancient, mythical hero. But now?

Now all she wants...is for Adora to feel  _ whole _ again.

“...look I don’t...I don’t know what’s going to happen. But the magic wants to go back to you. And...I feel like...when it does...everything is going to be alright, somehow.”

\---

Adora can’t believe how  _ strong _ Catra is, able to offer Adora comfort when she is the one with a knife in her chest. 

Catra’s assurances make sense, but that does little to help comfort Adora’s fear.

If she pulls this out and they're  _ wrong _ ..

Still, she can feel that magic calling to her, the fingers around that hilt tingling with a familiar power, desperate to come home.

Adora leans down, pressing her lips to Catras in what she fears may be their  _ final _ kiss before nodding.

“I love you…”

With those words Adora takes the hilt with a sense of finality, and  _ pulls _ .

\---

Catra leans into the kiss, kissing back  _ desperately. _ She knows Adora is scared. She’s  _ terrified _ herself.

She feels the white hot pain when the blade is pulled, but she can feel a magic coalescing in the blade. 

Her form reverts as, instead of the horrible Horde dagger she was stabbed with, a beautiful, slender blade is drawn from her. The hilt a white gold, the blade itself a glassy blue.

Her vision starts to swim, and she tries desperately to stay awake, furious with herself at the possibility of betraying Adora this way. 

She struggles to watch though, distracted somewhat by the way the magic that had quietly resided within her for nearly a day flows back into its rightful bearer. 

In her last few moments of consciousness, she sees her beloved made  _ whole _ once again.

\---

She-Ra had always felt...  _ foreign _ somehow. A being separate, immensely powerful, and merely needing Adora to act as a shell for that energy. 

When that ocean of magic was  _ gone _ Adora had come to know her own magic better, even if was bleeding fast.

Adora braced for a tidal wave of magic to flow from the sword and back into her.

That is not what happened.

Instead, the magic Catra had fought so desperately to stabilize during their wedding seemed to  _ expand _ . 

Adora’s magic wasn’t being replaced, but bolstered. 

It doubled, tripled, quadrupled in size until Adora felt the tip of her new blade leave Catra’s body.

At some point Adora had transformed, her wedding dress replaced with clothes she knew only She-Ra would wear... but they suited her  _ far _ better then before.

There would be time for self reflection later.

Catra was bleeding out in her arms and she instinctively knew how to fix it.

She pulled that small broken body into chest and allowed the abundance of magic out.

A controlled release, slowly engulfing Catra in a golden glow and tending to her injuries with a gentle loving touch.

* * *

Catra wakes slowly.

She’s sore, for one, but the bed she’s in is warm and -- most blissfully, she’s resting against a warm body.

_ Adora. _

There’s distant noise, whispers and the acrid smell of potions, medicines, and as those slitted eyes slowly open, Catra realizes they’re in some kind of infirmary.

She groans softly, and tries to sit up -- only to stop with a pathetic little  _ whimper _ and to sink back into snuggling gently to Adora’s chest. 

“...not what I would have picked for a honeymoon,” she whispers softly,  _ playfully,  _ as she twists gently to look up at Adora.

\---

Adora smiles, her body relaxing as she feels Catra stir in her arms. She sighs happily and is careful to remain still as Catra readjusts to be even  _ closer _ .

The blonde kisses those lips in response to the honeymoon quip.

“Mmm we’ll be here for at least a little while. Queen’s orders. I think Glim’s decided we can’t be trusted on our own so she’ll keep us both here until she stops freaking out.”

Adora shifts once she is sure Catra is comfortable, the smaller woman’s injuries far more extensive than her own -- though she had slept for nearly ten hours after first arriving at the infirmary with Catra in her arms.

Melog rumbles something Adora assumes to be agreement, as the Lion rests their head on Catra’s shins, purring happily now that she is awake.

\---

Catra laughs softly when Adora mentions their stay here is on Glimmer’s orders. 

“...she gonna forgive us for stepping away from the reception and nearly dying…?”

She nuzzles deeper into that chest, briefly taking a curious inventory of the magic within.

It feels...completely different. Unified...like it’s hard to tell where Adora begins and She-Ra ends. She-Ra feels much more like Adora, and the Adora pieces she can feel...feel far more stabilized. Powerful.

She can still feel damage within that soul, something that’s healed up significantly since the wedding. 

Which…

“...how long was I out?” she asks softly, yawning and trying -- again -- to sit up. Despite the pain, she manages to do so, with no intention to stand or leave, just to...well, look around a bit.

She lifts a hand to scratch into her mane when she realizes her mane is no longer closely cut to her scalp. Instead, it flows, long and wild down almost to her lower back. About where it was before Prime cut it.

“...please don’t tell me I was unconscious  _ that _ long,” she whispers, her claws freezing mid stroke in her new mane.

\---

Adora follows Catra up, feeling Melog stir and move their body decidedly more  _ overtop _ Adora and Catra’s lower halves.

She knew the guardian was just making sure neither got up, and she couldn’t blame them. They had been just as worried about Catra as Adora had -- possibly even more because of their bond. 

Before replying, Adora presses another kiss into Catra’s lips, this one just a peck to help reassure Catra before teasing.

“You’ve been in a coma for --” 

Melog’s warning  _ Morw _ cuts her off.

“-- for two days. I think the hair was a gift from She-Ra. For helping to save me and for saying sorry that she had to leave you. She knew how much you missed your mane.”

\---

Catra sits there, slowly dragging her claws through her new mane. Tears form in her eyes.

“I...I remember when I was forced to bring them the sword...I felt...something from it. And I remember...that the gem on the blade went black…”

Those bi-colored eyes gaze into Adora’s, even as a tear slides down her cheek.

“...I guess...that’s when She-Ra was inside me. Right before Prime broke the sword…”

Catra takes a few strands of mane and starts idly braiding it, just something to do with her hands as she sniffles softly.

“...A safe place. Maybe...she knew how much I love you.”

Catra leans in, softly capturing Adora’s lips.

“...how are you feeling?”

\----

Adora smiles into that kiss, her heart warmed at Catra’s explanation. Truthfully she hadn’t known  _ exactly _ what had happened between falling asleep in Catra’s arms and waking up to such... 

She shivers and shakes her head, pushing the memories as far down as they would go.

“Honestly I haven’t been awake a whole lot more then you have. I healed you as best I could as She-Ra and then Melog helped us back to the party where Glimmer took one look at us and didn’t even  _ ask _ about the lion dragon I was riding before teleporting us here.”

Adora pauses long enough to reach down and stroke Melog behind an ear, grateful for their companionship during all this.

“I’m still… recovering. I’ve slept a lot but I’m stable. My magic isn’t bleeding anymore but being next to you is still when I feel at my best.”

\---

Catra slowly moves to rest her head back down on that chest, a purr climbing in her throat loud enough it can be heard from the door. She reaches down to match Adora, softly stroking Melog’s other ear.

“...thank you, friend,” she whispers so softly. “I’m...not sure we would have made it without you.”

She’s quiet for a moment...as though chewing on a thought.

“...we...we missed our wedding night, huh…”

Catra’s surprisingly  _ sad _ about that.

“Well, you did but. I imagine you both want a do-over,” comes a voice from the door, Glimmer, flanked by Bow, smiles softly to them, both holding a plate each of a golden waffle topped with pink ice cream.

“We’ll wait till you both recover but...you both deserve a wedding of your choice.”

\---

Adora softens even  _ more _ at seeing her two best friends coming in carrying her favorite breakfast  _ and _ her favorite dessert. 

How did it never occur to her to put the two together before?!

With a surprising show of strength for not being in her She-Ra form, Adora gathers Catra up in her arms and places her into her lap, scooting over to provide plenty of room for Glimmer and Bow to join them.

“There’s room for two more and…” Adora pauses, feeling her face flush and mark on her chest which has yet to begin to fade heat up, “I’d love a chance to marry you  _ properly _ . No offense.”

Adora offers a sympathetic look to Glimmer. She knows the queen and all the staff worked  _ hard _ on making sure everything was perfect. It was just... not perfect for them.

\---

If the queen is upset about the wedding being ruined, she doesn’t show it, handing Adora a plate while Bow hands Catra the other. And then she moves to sit down next to Adora, smiling  _ so _ gently. 

“The healers said you were awake so we brought you something to eat.”

Glimmer can’t help but  _ smile _ so brightly, her heart flooding with warmth at the sight of her best friend, and her best friend’s  _ wife -- _ a little weak but looking  _ good. _ Looking _ happy. _

“How are you feeling, Adora? Catra?” Glimmer asks gently, resting a hand on Adora’s thigh. 

Catra purrs softly from behind Adora, snuggled close against that shoulder as she cuts into the dollop of ice cream.

“A wedding just for us?” she asks softly. “Yeah...I’d...I’d really like that.”

\---

Adora’s first inclination was to… well not exactly  _ lie _ but omit some of the truth about how she was feeling... but she caught herself. She was amongst friends here and Prime was  _ gone _ . Shadow Weaver along with him. She... she didn’t need to be strong for the sake of saving face anymore.

“I’m still… really tired. I feel like I could sleep for another month and only just start to feel caught up but... I’m not... you know... like last time. Not even close.”

The topic is bitter, so Adora makes a point to spear the waffle with her spoon and precariously balance a corner of the golden confectionary goodness with a bit of strawberry-creamed perfection on top and shovel it into her mouth.

She did not miss Catra’s  _ hopeful _ comments regarding their wedding and, though still chewing, she presses a ice cold kiss onto Catra’s forehead, pulling away before her wife can retaliate.

\---

Catra chuckles softly when Adora talks about sleep, because, honestly,  _ she agrees. _ Sleep for the next month sounds  _ blissful _ if both of them are together doing it. Just being tucked next to each other, warm and safe --

Her thoughts of snuggling come to a rude awakening when Adora presses ice cold lips to her forehead, making her squirm.

“Hey! You’re  _ cold, _ Princess.”

\---

“Mmm, can’t say that I’m sorry, but I will make it up to you later.”

Adora isn’t sure if she was going for flirty but... she does mean it. She’ll do anything to make Catra happy once they both have enough energy to do more then sit around in bed and cuddle.

“You know... now that you’re married to me you’re a Princess-Consort. I guess that means I could start calling  _ you _ princess if I wanted to.”

The idea makes her smile, she doesn’t hate being called Princess but it would be fun to give Catra a taste of her own medicine. 

\---

Bow and Glimmer exchange a look.

And Glimmer  _ grins. _

“...actually Adora,  _ you’re _ her consort. She rules the Horde now.”

For the first time, it really begins to sink in.

“...see, his plan was to give her enough of a rank so it wouldn’t be a random Force Captain marrying a princess. He promoted her to the equivalent rank of princess, and...well, now that he’s gone...she’s the emperor now.”

“...wait,  _ seriously?” _

Catra tilts her head, the implications slow to sink in.

“Yeah. That means...at least I  _ hope _ it means...the war is  _ over.” _

Catra turns to look back at Adora.

She leans in, pressing her forehead to her wife’s. 

“...yeah. It’s over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are working on an epilogue for this! it's extremely fluffy. chapter 1 for that coming soon! thank you so much for reading this, it's been quite a journey. love u guys. big hearts.


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